


Concubinage

by YumeHanabi



Series: Marital Duties [1]
Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Corporal Punishment, Court Intrigues, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Mutual Pining, Side Material-Compliant, Skippable Smut, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeHanabi/pseuds/YumeHanabi
Summary: To quell the rebellious temperament of the Outway clan heir, Lars Long Dau gets the idea to make him his son's concubine. This is both the best and worst idea he's ever had.
Relationships: Gaius/Wingul (Tales of Xillia)
Series: Marital Duties [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001082
Comments: 177
Kudos: 34





	1. Engagement

**Author's Note:**

> ~~The extremely self-indulgent Gaiwin Arranged Marriage AU no one asked for.~~
> 
> A couple of worldbuilding notes that might be good to know before reading:
> 
>   * In this AU, the Battle of Fezebel didn't take place, so no tsunami, no Auj Oule clans losing many of their men, thus less incentive for Gaius to take up arms like he did in canon. He's still got a rebellious spirit, because of course he does.
>   * Since Gaius' canon rebellion and creation of Taurus didn't happen, he and Wingul are referred to by their original names: **Arst Outway** and **Lin Long Dau**.
>   * It's not necessary to read it, but this fits well as a canon-divergence continuation of [this one-shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432761) I wrote about Gaius' childhood.
>   * Locations: **Xian Yang** is the Long Dau capital, upstream of the same river that runs through Xian Du, under a mild spirit clime (think Hamil, possibly a bit colder). **Darhan** is Gaius' hometown, located in the mountains further north, with a clime similar to the Mon Highlands.
>   * Canon side characters from side materials: Lars Long Dau (Wingul's dad); Yan, Ying and Bruno Long Dau (Wingul's uncles); Nils Frieden (Wingul's attendant/best friend).
>   * OC side characters: Kamal Outway (Gaius' dad); Kohei Morli (Kamal's bff/Gaius' mentor); Nui Long Dau (Wingul's mom); Minah (apothecary & resident grandma); other minor side characters like Wingul's cousins, ministers, servants etc.
>   * Terms: Wingul's official side story uses "prince" and "queen" to designate Wingul and his mother's positions within their clan, while Lars is "chief" rather than "king," as that term is reserved for the king of the whole country. I'm following that pattern here, so Wingul will be "Prince Lin".
> 

> 
> Chapter one is pretty expository to address the background stuff. The "fun" stuff will start in chapter two :p
> 
> Note: We've got art! Thank you so much to everyone who made illustrations for this fic, it's amazing I love them all ♥♥♥  
> ▪ [Cover art](https://twitter.com/trs_linitaa/status/1328458852245843972) by TRS  
> ▪ [Ch.6&13 scene illustrations](https://twitter.com/Sayonaraphicet/status/1336308631277457409) by Dai  
> ▪ [Arst&Lin costume designs](https://yume-x-hanabi.tumblr.com/post/621387089113726976/lin-long-dau-and-arst-outway-as-they-appear-in-my) by me

Having built their capital on a river, it came as no surprise that the Long Daus worshipped the spirit Undine above all others. Some might have expected them to honor Efreet, the patron of brave warriors and often the great spirit favored by those who sought power, for fire was intense and destructive like the wars they waged to expand their territories. However, swift and strong currents were no less symbolic to the founders of the Long Dau clan, and the shrine they built to the Great Spirit of Water was an undeniably impressive structure.

Polished stone paved the courtyard and interior, while crystal-clear water flowed through the shrine grounds via a complex network of ornate fountains and gutters. Inside, the altar held a large basin into which droplets dripped down from a ceiling duct at timed intervals, the mechanism likely powered by spirit artes.

Arst Outway was currently standing before said altar. Next to him was another young man with long black hair—Lin, the heir of the Long Dau clan. Arst’s husband-to-be.

A gong signaled the beginning of the wedding ritual. In traditional Long Dau fashion, the future spouses would first bow to their respective parents to thank them for raising them. Then, they would kneel before the altar and accomplish a cleansing ritual. And finally, the spousal bow would seal the alliance.

Arst turned to face his family, which solely consisted in his father and his sister Karla, their mother having passed away a long time ago. His father’s expression was closed, like he was trying to hide what he was truly thinking about the event under a mask of neutrality and indifference. Arst, who had seen his anguish up close in the privacy of their home, could not help but admire his ability to put on a calm and collected front in difficult situations. Perhaps, if he’d learned to do that—if he’d stayed impassive—if he hadn’t been so rash… Then perhaps, they would not be here now. Arst silently promised that from now on, he would try to hold his tongue and remain impassive even when his insides were boiling with anger, just like his father.

His gaze swept past his father and caught his sister’s teary eyes. His heart constricted at the sight. He knew she blamed herself. She had told him as much, and even if she hadn’t, guilt and despair were written all over her face. As he lowered his head for the bow, he recalled their previous conversation.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered as they shared one last hug before they entered the Long Dau capital. “This is all my fault.”

It was in no way her fault, but she had managed to let rumors and gossip convince her of it. Or perhaps she thought that, by shouldering the blame, she could create the illusion that this situation could have been avoided, that they still had a minuscule amount of control over their destiny, and that their clan would not be suffering such a harsh blow if she had not messed up.

The reality was that she hadn’t messed anything up. There was nothing she could have done to prevent the unfortunate chain of events that led to their current predicament. The cold truth was: in a world where the strong preyed on the weak, their very lives were governed by the whims of those in power, and there was nothing they could do to avoid it.

Relations between the governing Long Dau and the Outway clan had been tense for a long while. Though small, the Outway clan had always produced fine warriors and strong-willed leaders. The way the Long Daus trampled over the northern clans had never sat well with their forefathers, and they had always attempted to retain a certain degree of independence, which, of course, had never sat well with the lords of the Long Dau clan, who liked to think that their power over the region was absolute. As one of the most powerful tribes of Auj Oule, the Long Daus only answered to the king himself, and every clan residing on their vast territory was forced to follow their rule. Arst’s father had always tried his best not to exacerbate those tensions. However, that was not enough for the Long Dau elite, who eventually wanted a more tangible proof of his loyalty.

That was where Karla came in.

Promised at a young age to a man nearly a decade older, she had dutifully accepted her role in the making of a political alliance. In truth, it was an advantageous match, an opportunity a small clan such as theirs could not pass up—and doing so would have been an insult with repercussions they were not ready to face. Her betrothed was a cousin of the Long Dau chief, not a direct relation but close enough that he was considered part of the main branch. As his rightful wife, she would enjoy the wealth and privilege that his position offered. In return, she would serve as a readily available hostage to keep her father and brother in rank. It was a truly good match, that benefited both parties.

In her youth, Karla had been fond of the man she was promised to, and he in turn had treated her kindly, if a bit condescendingly (in Arst’s opinion). She was set to marry in the spring of her fifteenth year, and awaited the moment with a certain enthusiasm. She would be sad to part with her family and friends to live in the capital, but she was eager to play her role for the sake of her clan, and was looking forward to her new life with her future husband.

That day never came.

A month before they were to be wed, a small scandal erupted. It was revealed that her fiancé had impregnated another woman—a lady from an influential clan—and to avoid losing that clan’s loyalty, the Long Daus welcomed her as a bride within the week.

The Outways received the news with barely an apology, and just like that, the union was broken, and the future relation between the clans uncertain.

Somehow Karla was blamed for the dissolving of her betrothal. She was too young, gossipers said, or too plain, or not powerful enough. Who could fault a man for looking elsewhere?

To the outside world, she bore the heartbreak and the scorn with dignity befitting the daughter of a chief, but in private, her family was privy to the anguish and the tears this affair had caused.

Arst had never liked Karla’s fiancé. He found him arrogant and unbefitting of his sister. He had vehemently protested the union, to no avail. Eventually, he had learned to keep his misgivings quiet so as not to upset her. When the affair broke out, however, his dislike for the man and the whole clan behind him increased tenfold, and he vowed never to let them intimidate him like they had his father.

In insight, his disrespect and rebellious spirit must have been obvious to anyone who met him, which must have greatly displeased the Long Dau lords. They tolerated it for a while, because he was still young, and his aptitude in combat was an asset during military campaigns. As long as he was useful, they did not punish his transgressions too severely, and he learned how to toe the line.

It all came crashing down six years later, when the Long Daus launched a campaign to claim some eastern territories they had been feuding over with the Kitarl clan. Karla’s ex-fiancé was appointed commander of the Long Dau army for this campaign, and Arst and the fifty Outway men that had been requisitioned were supposed to obey his orders. However, Arst failed to behave like a good subordinate.

His disdain for the man was apparent in any interaction they had, and he questioned every decision he made. In Arst’s opinion, the man was a poor leader and tactician, and was constantly ordering maneuvers that only served to deplete their resources for little gain. After a virulent argument about an upcoming battle, Arst stormed off from the strategy tent and decided to lead his own men into battle in the way he saw fit. What that resulted in was an overwhelming victory, eclipsing by far any of the commander’s own accomplishments.

When Lars Long Dau received the full report, he flew into a rage so intense that his own brothers did not dare approach him for a full day. If Arst had merely disobeyed orders, he could have simply been executed for insubordination. However, his contribution to the victory was so great that he was hailed as a champion by the people. Those who had witnessed his prowess sang his praises far and wide, and the population, hungry for this kind of heroic tale, gobbled it all up in no time. Getting rid of him now would have been an unpopular move, and for all that Lars usually liked to solve problems with his sword, he realized that he would have to tread carefully. If he could not outright get rid of him, he needed to find a way to crush his power and spirit in a way that did not look like a punishment to the uneducated masses.

When the troops came back from the battle, Arst was sent home to his clan with congratulations and the promise to be rewarded later. He took the news with a certain degree of dubiousness, for he knew that despite his accomplishments, his insubordination was unlikely to go unaddressed. When the heat of the battle died down, he even came to regret his rash act. Although he was convinced of his righteousness, he could not help but worry about the repercussions, and was a little ashamed of himself for letting personal grudges influence his conduct. Had his father not told him time and time again to keep a clear head and avoid provoking his superiors? He had basically done the exact opposite!

A week later, a messenger brought a missive to the Outway chief.

It was a marriage proposal.

To reward Arst for his daring spirit, Chief Lars Long Dau demanded that he entered the Long Dau court as Prince Lin’s concubine.

Outwardly, it was a great reward indeed. To small clans, a daughter taken as one of the prince’s concubines was an honor, a reward for their good service, and an opportunity to rise in status. The sons they bore, while lower in status than direct heirs, stood a chance of inheriting their father should the official wife fail to birth a boy. Although the practice was usually followed to ensure a ruler would not lack heirs, it was not uncommon that second sons of clan chiefs were chosen as well. Entering the prince’s household would prevent them from fathering children of their own, but in return, they could reasonably expect a life of luxury and promotions.

However, Arst was the _heir_ of his own clan. To be bound to the prince meant forfeiting his right to succeed his father and become a leader himself. Moreover, the role came with its share of obligations that would greatly restrict his freedom. He would not be allowed to leave the castle without his husband’s permission, would have to obey his every order and tend to his every whim, and would never be allowed to pass on his own bloodline. Stripped of the power he possessed as a future clan chief, isolated from his family and retainers, given no choice but to submit as a simple man, he would be trapped in a golden cage for the rest of his life.

Unable to either appease him or behead him, this was Lars Long Dau’s scheme to restrain him before his insubordination turned into full-scale rebellion. Coming from a man known for his swift and explosive reactions, this was a surprisingly well-thought move.

No one in the Outway household took the news well.

Karla blamed herself for the deterioration of her brother’s relationship with her ex-fiancé, and somehow convinced herself that everything would have been fine had her own engagement not failed.

Arst’s father, Kamal, acted more like he was making preparations for a funeral rather than a wedding.

The clan’s retainers and the local villagers, who had been looking forward to having Arst as a chief one day, frequently complained about how unfair it was to take him from them, and had to be reminded to keep their opinions to themselves before outsiders caught wind of the growing dissent brewing within the clan.

As for Arst himself… He thought he might have preferred it indeed if the message had simply asked for his head instead.

* * *

When he straightened up, Arst offered his sister a small reassuring smile.

_“I’ll be all right,”_ he tried to convey. _“Don’t worry.”_

The first part of the ceremony now accomplished, both young men turned around to face the basin on the altar. Now came the second part, the cleansing ritual that symbolized the transition to their marital life.

Arst scooped up water with his hands and moved backwards, kneeling. From the corner of his eye, he saw his betrothed do the same. In unison, they raised their hands high and bowed toward the altar, letting the water held within their palms drip down their arms. The droplets were cold on Arst’s skin and left a tingling sensation where they trailed down, and a burst of energy coursed through his body. The water was infused with spirit artes, he realized. Some kind of healing spell, though the nature of it escaped him.

Once the last remnants of the spell dissipated, they got up and faced each other.

If this were a formal marriage ceremony, they would bow to each other and share a cup of sake to seal the union. They would then move to the castle’s main hall for a grand banquet with dances and entertainment, before retreating to their marital bed. But such treatment was only reserved for the rightful wife—concubines only went through an abridged version of the spiritual cleansing ceremony before their status was made official and they were brought to their new residence. They were also the only one required to bow to their new husband.

Thus Prince Lin kept standing while Arst reluctantly lowered himself on the ground once more, keeping his expression as neutral as possible to hide the disgust that threatened to twist his features into a grimace. The smooth stone that paved the ceremonial hall was cool against his forehead. He remained prostrated for one second, two, three, until the shrine’s officiant chimed the bells signaling the end of the ritual.

Slowly, he rose, his eyes traveling up until they finally met the prince’s for the first time since he’d entered the capital.

Well…

Arst supposed he should find comfort in the fact that his new husband seemed to want this union about as much as he did.


	2. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst and Prince Lin spend their first evening together as a married couple.

Arst barely had time to say goodbye to his family before he was brought to the castle. He had been there before, often to accompany his father when the chiefs of vassal clans were called to the capital on various occasions. However, those times had only taken him as far as the main hall where meetings and ceremonies were held. The place where the prince was guiding him to was a little further within the castle grounds, beyond the main keep. They passed several buildings on the way before Prince Lin stopped in front of the gate of a walled complex. Through the open gate, Arst could make out an inner courtyard surrounded by single-story houses on each side, in the traditional Xian Yang style. Servants were standing near the entrance of the main hall, likely waiting for orders.

“This is my residence,” the prince informed him. He passed through the gate and beckoned Arst to follow him into the main house, nodding to the servants waiting for them before the doors as they bowed in greeting. “You will live here with me.”

This surprised Arst. “I thought wives and concubines had their own building?” This was certainly the case for the current chief’s household: Lady Nui had her own living quarters and Lars’ concubines occupied another complex together nearby. Aside from the clan chief and his heirs, only female servants were permitted in that part of the castle. Of course, as a man, Arst did not expect to be housed with them, but he thought there would be a separate building for him.

“Male concubines are usually granted their own residence according to their status,” Prince Lin explained. “However, Father thought it prudent to keep you directly under my watch for the foreseeable future.” From his tone of voice, he sounded less than thrilled with the idea. Not for the first time that day, Arst had the impression that their current arrangement was as unwelcome for the prince as it was for him.

The northern house’s interior consisted in a main hall, where a table had been set for their private nuptial banquet, as well as a study on the left and a bedroom on the right. Arst noticed that a chest containing his belongings, which he had handed to castle servants before the ceremony, had been brought inside and now lay in a corner of the main hall. This, more than anything, was what made Arst’s new living conditions a finality in his mind.

Prince Lin sat down at the table wordlessly and motioned for Arst to do the same. The servants stationed outside took this as their cue to bring the food in, and before they knew it the table was lined up with various plates and dishes. All of the servants left, save for a blond man who remained nearby in case they needed anything. He was the only one who spoke, wishing the prince a pleasant meal while glaring at Arst. No more words were exchanged during the course of the dinner, and Arst mused that he’d attended funerals that were livelier than this poor excuse for a wedding banquet. At least the food was good.

Once they were done and the blond servant had left with the plates, Prince Lin handed Arst a scroll before disappearing behind a privacy screen to change into his nightwear. The document was filled to the brim with a list of obligations and interdictions he was required to comply with, ranging from basic domestic chores to the kinds of positions allowed during intercourse. Arst nearly threw the scroll to the floor in a mix of disgust and embarrassment when he read those, but he forced himself to take a deep breath and school his expression. “It’s just sex,” he muttered to himself. “Nothing to get anxious about.”

Prince Lin emerged from the privacy screen wearing only a thin silk robe. With his hair down, he might have looked more approachable, if it weren’t for his perpetual frown. They stood facing each other for a moment, before Arst sighed and set the scroll aside. Whether he liked it or not, what must be done must be done. He swiftly undid his belt and shrugged his outer shirt off his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Prince Lin asked, his voice uncharacteristically strangled.

“Disrobing.” As if that wasn’t obvious, Arst thought, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“You can change behind the screen.”

Arst raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t changing a waste of time?” He picked up the scroll and tapped a finger to the relevant section. “Here, it says I’m supposed to undress and kneel before you, then turn around and—”

“Change. Behind. The screen.”

Arst was finding it harder and harder not to sigh rudely, but he nonetheless complied. The first rule read _obey thy husband in all circumstances_ , after all. Not that he was going to follow it perfectly every time—he knew himself, and had limits he was not willing to cross should the prince demand it of him—but this was only the first night, he should go along with what the prince wanted, no matter how silly the demand. He opened the chest containing his belongings to fish for his nightwear, and went behind the screen to change, as instructed.

When he came out, the first thing Arst noticed was the futon spread out on the floor next to the bed. The prince was already in bed, tucked under the covers, his back to him.

“Blow the candles before you sleep,” was the only thing he said.

This is when Arst realized that regardless of their arrangement, the prince had no intention of applying the “intimacy” section of the rulebook tonight. Or any night, Arst was starting to suspect. The tension in his spine lifted considerably at the realization.

“Is this a wedding night or a sleepover?” he muttered, amused. The prince’s lack of reaction told him he had no sense of humor, which was slightly disappointing, but he did not take it personally. Arst blew out the candles and slipped into his makeshift bed on the floor, settling comfortably on his pillow, his mood lighter than it had been for the whole day. He might be trapped here for the foreseeable future, but at least he would wake up the next day with his dignity intact. Small victories…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wingul is not ready to see Gaius in his naked glory just yet x)


	3. Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst explores his new home and experiences culture shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xian Yang's inspiration is a bit of a mix of Chinese and Japanese architecture. Mostly Chinese, but I imagine the main castle keep to look a bit like Shimabara Castle. Maybe I'll doodle what I have in mind one day, but my art skills are limited...
> 
> Anyway! Poor Arst is discovering just how different everything is from his home. Not much Lin in this chapter, but our funny blond servant makes his appearance :)

Arst woke up before the prince, which suited him just fine because, according to his long list of tasks, he was supposed to bring him breakfast. Which was good and all, except he did not know where the kitchen was and what the man sleeping on the bed usually ate in the morning.

With nothing else to do while waiting for him to wake up, Arst set out to explore the residence beyond just the main house. The crisp early morning air was invigorating, and he spent a few minutes in the courtyard, basking in the sunshine. A wisteria tree was planted near the main house’s entrance. It was in full bloom, its flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The clime here was warmer than in the mountains, but mornings were still cool enough for Arst to appreciate the fresh air.

Resuming his exploration, he found what looked like a reception hall in the east-wing house, along with a small kitchen that lacked all but the most basic utensils. His rummaging through the cupboards yielded nothing aside from tea leaves and some dry snacks, which Arst doubted constituted the prince’s breakfast. Frustrated by his lack of progress, he moved to the west-wing house, which was even more devoid of food but housed a large bathroom.

Like in the temple, a mechanism powered by spirit artes brought water directly into the building (there was even a glyph he could infuse with fire artes to heat it!), which seemed like a luxury to Arst, who was used to having to fetch water by hand from a well and bathe in natural hot springs. He supposed such technology was common in big cities, and this was just another example of how the Outway clan with its small mountain town was lagging behind.

With nothing else to do until the prince woke up—he did not dare venture outside of the estate on his own yet—Arst opted to wash himself and dress for the day. After a refreshing bath, he came back into the main house just as the prince was getting up. Prince Lin barely spared him a glance before striding off toward the bathhouse. Arst lingered around the doorway for a moment, hesitant. It was written in his list of duties that he was supposed to assist his husband in washing and dressing. However, the prince had not given him the impression that he wanted to be followed, and Arst did not want to intrude if he was unwelcome. On the other hand, would his lack of eagerness to serve be interpreted as a slight?

Frustrated, he sat down at the spot he had occupied the night before, opening the scroll to read it again. The list was equally vague and detailed, providing many directives but little guidance. Sometimes, it even contradicted itself: “Anticipate thy husband’s needs,” one line said. “Do not presume to know thy husband’s intentions,” another read. _What does that even mean_ , he wondered bitterly. By the time he was done trying to make sense of the document, the prince had come back and selected his own clothes himself, changing behind the privacy screen like the night before. Arst decided to take his silence at face value. If he needed anything, he could just order him, but Arst was not going to pretend to be a mind-reader.

Prince Lin sat at the table, facing Arst, and took out his own reading material. He opened his book without paying Arst any attention, which Arst was starting to find unnerving. It was not that he wanted to be given orders, but the tense silence and uncertainty was starting to get to him. At home, he always had something to do, whether it was assisting his father, helping people in the fields, visiting neighboring clans, training, or spending time with his sister. But here, he was stuck in a room getting the silent treatment from the one he was now completely dependent on. It was… disconcerting.

Of course, he could always just _ask_ what the prince expected of him, but Arst had his pride too, and was not so desperate to beg for something to do. If the prince had nothing to say, then neither did he.

They sat at a standstill for several more minutes, until the silence was interrupted by the arrival of the blond servant from the day before, who came in bringing food. Well, that solved the breakfast problem, at least.

The servant inquired about the prince’s disposition and attempted to engage him in conversation about mundane things despite the monotone answers. Arst noticed that his own plate was much less furnished than the prince’s, but when he looked at the servant, the man pretended not to notice his gaze.

“You’re going to the library this morning, right?” the servant asked the prince as if Arst wasn’t there at all. “I’ll go with you.”

“No need.”

The servant frowned. “But…”

“I have another task for you.” The prince glanced at Arst, before addressing his attendant once more. “Take him on a tour of the castle grounds. But before that, have a tailor brought in.”

Since they were talking about him, Arst broke his silence. “I don’t need—”

“Of course you do,” the servant interrupted. “You are Prince Lin’s concubine; we can’t have you walking around looking like that.”

Arst looked down at his own clothes. He was wearing a simple cotton tunic over pants, the kind of outfits he often wore when running errands through his hometown, as it was both practical and comfortable. He was hardly indecent.

“I don’t see what the problem is.”

The attendant rolled his eyes, but it was the prince who answered. “Even our servants don’t wear such cheap fabric. Your marriage to me granted you a certain status; it would be improper not to look the part.”

Anger clouded Arst’s expression. “You call that cheap? Cotton of this quality is rare to find in Darhan. It’s not like I’m dressed in rags.” He had a couple of finer outfits, but those were reserved for official occasions. As far as everyday wear was concerned, this was one of his nicest tunics, and it was more expensive than what he usually spent on clothes. To dismiss it as _cheap_ …

“Darhan is Darhan,” the prince stated in his monotone voice. “This is Xian Yang Castle. You need to adapt.”

Arst wanted to protest, but forced himself to calm down. Prince Lin did have a point. Much as he loathed to think, he carried different expectations now. Which apparently included actually dressing like someone from the prince’s household. “Fine,” he sighed. “Bring in your tailor.”

The fitting took longer than expected, as the tailor seemed intent on measuring every part of his body. He’d brought with him a few textile samples, and Arst had to admit that the fabrics were indeed of great quality. The prince’s attendant (whose name was Nils, Arst learned) tried to place the order for him, but Arst managed to interject some of his own choices too— _no, he didn_ _’t need such a heavy winter coat, thank you very much, the spirit clime here was much milder than what he was used to_ —which lightened his mood somewhat. He still did not appreciate people dictating his life for him, but the ability to make some personal choices was a small relief.

The tailor left promising that everything would be ready within a few days, and Arst was left alone with Nils once more.

“Don’t you have anything better to wear for today?” Nils asked him.

Arst went over to his chest and took out one of his best shirts. It was made of slightly sturdier material, and was adorned with flame designs at the hems. “How about this?”

Nils studied the piece for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. “Better.”

It felt weird, Arst thought, to be wearing a shirt he usually wore when presiding council meetings in place of his father like it was a casual outfit. He should probably be happy to be elevated to a life of such luxury, but Arst found the contrast jarring. Perhaps it was due to his habit of blending with the general population back at home, a habit his father had encouraged since childhood ( _“A good leader must know his people,”_ he’d said), but Arst had never really regarded clothing as a symbol of status before, and the thought of spending so much money on something so basic unsettled him.

Now deemed presentable according to Nils, Arst was taken on a tour of the castle grounds. The Outway clan’s own castle was very simple—wooden fences and a shallow ditch protecting the main mansion housing the chief’s family, two turrets, and a short keep at the top of a hill. In contrast, Xian Yang’s castle was gigantic.

Built in the middle of the river, it was only accessible through a pair of bridges that could be taken down in case of attack. Stone walls elevated the ground above the city’s level, and turrets at all corners ensured a constant monitoring of boat traffic near the castle. The main keep stood proud and tall in the center, its bright white walls, black-tiled roofs and silver ornaments visible from any point in the city. A symbol of power and prestige.

Around the main keep were several buildings and facilities, like a small city within the castle walls. There were, notably, the ruling family’s residences, but also a training hall, a library, ministers’ offices, an elegant garden, and of course accommodation and working spaces for the servants. Arst thus learned that there were no less than four sets of kitchens from which meals could be brought to the various people residing on the castle grounds.

“Is this why the kitchen seems unused in the prince’s mansion?”

Nils nodded. “It is more efficient to have everything centralized. Of course, the prince’s meals are prepared separately, and tested for poison before delivery.”

“Poison?”

Nils looked at Arst critically. “Of course. Every member of the main family has their own meals tested before they touch it. You were a clan heir yourself; didn’t you use to do the same?”

“We just ate whatever was available,” Arst shrugged. He could not think of anyone who would want to poison him or his father in their village. The few servants they employed had served their family for many years and were trusted members of their household. They even made sure that his own meals were seasoned lightly, just as he preferred. He could not imagine any of them slipping something inedible into the food.

Nils shook his head in slight disbelief, as if he could not fathom that a clan chief would be so lax about security.

“Does it happen often?” Arst asked, curious.

Nils’ first reaction was to bristle, offended that anyone would insinuate that matters in the clan were anything less than perfect, and that the precautions they took were for more than excessive prudence, but eventually his shoulders sagged a little and he answered truthfully. “Sometimes. The culprits are usually found quickly, but that doesn’t stop others from trying from time to time…”

For the first time since coming here, Arst felt a pang of sympathy for his husband. Rotten as the clan was, so far the prince had done nothing to warrant attempts on his life, especially in such underhanded ways.

That evening, Arst visited the castle kitchen with the aim to accomplish his duty for the evening meal at least, but when he explained his intentions to the head chef, the woman laughed heartily.

“Oh goodness no, we cannot possibly let you handle the cooking!”

Arst frowned. “I was under the impression that it was now my duty to see that the prince is well-fed.” He was starting to wonder if the scroll of rules was some elaborate prank. So far every rule he had tried to abide to had been dismissed. Not that he _minded_ , but the pointlessness of everything he did was getting frustrating.

The chef looked at him with a fond smile. “Your role is to ensure that everything is prepared in a timely manner, but the actual preparing is the cooks’ job.” She had a rather brusque way of speaking, but her voice was not devoid of kindness. “My lord, you are our prince’s esteemed concubine, not a servant. Leave the menial jobs to us castle staff.”

Arst thought that a servant was precisely what Lars Long Dau wanted him to act like, but he kept the thought to himself. “All right. But I will at least bring the food to the residence myself.”

A strange expression passed over the woman’s face. “Ah, but that’s…”

“…my job,” came a voice from the entrance. Arst turned around to find Nils looking at him with that critical look of his. He strode into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on him. “Prince Lin was surprised to find the house empty when he came back from the library. If you leave the residence, you must notify him of your whereabouts.”

Ah, there it was, the reminder that even if his status was still higher than everyone else in the room, freedom was no longer something to take for granted.

“I was merely trying to accomplish my ‘duty’ as your master instructed me.”

Nils opened his mouth to retort, but the head chef interrupted him. “All right, all right, if you want to supervise the preparations, you can stand in that corner over there, but right now you’re getting in the way.” She made a gesture to shoo them away, and they begrudgingly complied. Arst could have simply gone back to the residence, but a stubborn part of him decided that, since he had already come all this way, he would stay till the end.

He spent as much time observing the preparations as stealing sideway glances at Nils. The man glared at him and opened his mouth several times as if he wanted to say something, but never voiced his thoughts. Arst wondered why he was so hostile to him. They had only known each other for less than a day, but the blond servant was often curt and critical with him, as if he objected to his very presence. During their tour of the castle grounds, Arst had gleaned that Nils was Prince Lin’s personal attendant. He seemed to hold the prince in high regard, and Arst wondered how that factored into the man’s behavior toward him.

“You need not concern yourself with mundane tasks,” Nils finally spoke, somewhat calmer now. “That has always been my job.”

Arst nodded slowly. “As you wish.”

The food preparations and tasting went smoothly, and the two of them headed to the prince’s residence accompanied by a pair of servants carrying the plates.

Prince Lin did not reproach Arst for his absence as he had expected; perhaps Nils’ warning had been enough. The evening was spent in pretty much the same fashion as the previous day, with few glances exchanged and even fewer words. After dinner, the prince went to his study, and Arst finally took the time to unpack and sort his belongings, storing them the furniture allocated to him. When it was time to sleep, the prince instructed him to set the futon himself and slipped into his own bed without further acknowledgment.

“Well, good night to you too,” Arst muttered under his breath.

He was answered by silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can they just start _talking_ already...


	4. Correspondence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst exchanges letters with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Lin in there outside of mentions - this chapter gives some spotlight to Arst's family in epistolary form.

Dear Karla,

My husband has informed me that I was allowed to use the northbound sylphjays from the castle aviary to send you letters. Taking me around to introduce me to the birds has been the longest conversation we have held so far. I suppose I should find a way to thank him for this at least…

I hope you are well. It has only been little more than a week since I last saw you, but already I miss you and our home. Life in the Long Dau court is so different from the customs of the Outway clan, I think it will take me some time for me to get used to it. In many ways, this could be considered an improvement: the clime is milder, the food richer, the silk finer, and the facilities more comfortable. I am, so far, free of responsibilities beyond simple obedience. If you didn’t know me, you might mistake me for a rich idler. If I had been someone else, I might have even welcomed this change. But I am not someone else. Idle life does not suit me, and I am starting to feel restless from the lack of activity. Perhaps this will change after some time has passed and the prince finally finds some use for me…

But enough about me. Tell me, sister, how you have been doing. I hope you are settling well in your new role of heiress. Knowing you, I am sure you will do well. Tell Father not to worry, and that I miss him too.

Love,

Arst

* * *

Dear brother,

It is good to hear from you! Please relay my thanks to your husband for allowing us to correspond.

I miss you so, _so_ much. Life here just isn’t the same without your presence, and Father has taken to locking himself in his study when there is no other matter to attend to. I think that as long as he is holing up, he can pretend that you are still roaming our land freely, unseen yet never far from him.

I don’t have much else to report—life here is the same as it has always been, save for the rather gloomy atmosphere. I am coping as best as I can. I am trying to fulfill my new obligations as expected of me, and I think I have been doing well so far, but I cannot help but think that _you_ should be the one doing them, here. Your absence is felt strongly.

How is your married life? Is the prince treating you well? I do not know how honest you can afford to be in these letters, but please let me know how you are doing.

Lots of love,

Karla

* * *

Karla,

Tell Kohei to tell Father to stop hiding. He should not turn his back to reality. But please do take care of him; he needs your support now more than ever.

Married life is… fine, I guess. The prince is less like his father than I expected, which is some relief at least. For the most part, he has been letting me be. He seems to be the type to express dislike through lack of attention, which suits me just fine. His attendant, however, is much less subtle about his disdain for me. I am still trying to figure out their relationship. They are close, no doubt, but the nature of their closeness is still a mystery to me. …Look at me, already getting interested in court intrigues. I’d better watch out, lest I start getting _too_ used to life here.

I have found a sort of routine to kill boredom. In the morning, I practice my sword forms in the courtyard. In the afternoon, I read one of the books I brought along, or clean the house, when my husband leaves the residence for whatever reason. I also visit the kitchens from time to time. The head chef complains a lot about how I am distracting her staff, but I think she’s actually happy to see me. I am trying to convince her to teach me how to make the popular Xian Yang dishes, but it is a work in progress: as of today, she still refuses to let me anywhere near the utensils. I am thinking of bribing her with exclusive Outway recipes…

I am looking forward to your next letter.

Love,

Arst

* * *

Arst,

I am not hiding. No need to involve Kohei in this.

It’s good to know you are not being mistreated by your husband. This was my greatest worry about this whole affair. But, Arst—cleaning? Are they treating you like a servant?

Karla is progressively filling the gap you left. She is smart and capable, and I have no doubt that she will make a great chief one day, so rest assured that the future of our clan is secure. A strange phenomenon has started occurring ever since the news of your wedding reached the neighboring clans: a number of them have tried to offer their second or third sons as marriage prospects for Karla. No doubt they are hoping to take control of our clan that way. Unfortunately for them, the word “marriage” is currently banned in our household, and their proposals are presently trashed.

I miss you more than anything, and counting the days until I can see you again. In the meanwhile, continue to lay low, and take care of yourself.

Your father,

Kamal Outway

Arst,

Don’t listen to your father, he was definitely moping. He has now been dragged out of his hideout.

Training is good, it will keep you busy and maintain your strength. Enclosed are forms for a new arte I have been developing. I wish I could teach you in person, but for now written instructions will suffice. That should keep you occupied for a while.

Be well,

Kohei Morli

Brother,

Don’t get used to it too much! …But do tell me about that attendant and his relationship with your husband.

Father has been taking me along on clan business more frequently, recently. Our shared education has already prepared me well for the task, but I sorely lack the practical experience you accumulated while I was busy concerning myself with my own engagement. It will take me time to achieve your level of proficiency, but I am determined to make it happen. Our retainers have been understanding and treat me with goodwill. I hope to earn their trust as you did. I can never truly replace you, but I have decided to forge my path in my own way.

I am enclosing your favorite pastry recipe. Perhaps you can exchange it for one of their own.

Love,

Karla

* * *

Dear family,

Don’t overload the poor sylphjay, please!

I will try to answer you all at once:

Father — That does not surprise me in the slightest. People will likely see her as a weak woman, easy to manipulate. Clearly, they do not know the strength of the Outways.

Rest assured, I am laying low. Yesterday night was a banquet with the “in-laws,” and I did my best to keep my mouth shut and appear every bit the submissive househusband they want me to be. I may have overdone it, honestly—Prince Lin was looking at me funny the whole evening, and even wished me goodnight when it was time to sleep. Lord Lars was very pleased with the improvement in my behavior.

Regarding the cleaning: it is my duty to carry out (or, at the very least, supervise) various household duties. I could have servants do it, of course, but… ah, that’s a long story.

Karla — Sister, you are a worse gossip than me. But since you insist: his name is Nils, and he is Prince Lin’s personal assistant. The guy is everywhere! He follows the prince like a shadow, yet somehow manages to coordinate the household at the same time. He addresses him informally, too, when they think I’m not looking. From what I’ve gathered, his mother serves Lady Nui; this is probably how he came to be the prince’s number one retainer. He never disobeys direct orders from the prince to serve me, but it is clear he resents my presence, as if I am encroaching on his territory.

Thank you for the recipe. I am still not allowed near the stoves, but I was able to exchange it for another recipe of traditional Long Dau desserts. I am enclosing it with this letter. I hope it suits your tastes (it did mine).

Master Kohei — Thank you for your instruction. Your notes were very detailed; I feel like I can hear you guide my moves even without you being there. This new arte is a good challenge, and I cannot wait to see you and show you my progress.

As of a few days ago, I have been ordered to attend the training lessons given to the city’s elite youths in the castle’s training hall. The instructor does not hold a candle to you, but it is good to practice against other young men again. That is one thing I missed when I stayed at home: challenging new people and comparing styles. I can beat most of them with ease, but I am sure that there is something to learn here, no matter how rigid the instructor. My only regret is that the prince does not seem to attend those lessons. No talk of his skills ever reached our lands, so I have been wanting to see him in action for myself.

I am running out of paper. Maybe I should ask for a sturdier bird to carry more of your messages…

Take care of yourselves, and keep sending me news when you can.

Love,

Arst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for actual relationship progress next chapter 8)


	5. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst and Lin find a common interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally _some_ progress! And some more cultural differences, because of course Arst is not used to it yet.
> 
> Thanks everyone for your lovely comments ♥

As days passed and Arst settled into a routine, he caught himself thinking that it wasn’t too bad, after all. He still loathed his circumstances, of course, and was finding it harder and harder to resist engaging in small acts of rebellion, but he held out, partly because he had promised his father, and partly because…

Arst glanced up from his book to look at the man sitting at the low table across the room. Prince Lin’s brow was furrowed in concentration, his brush hovering above a sheet of paper. He’d spent the latter half of the afternoon at his desk, writing what appeared to be poetry—Arst had sneaked a peek when he came into the room earlier, before being promptly shooed toward the other side of the room, where he sat cross-legged on a mat, (re)reading one of the few books he’d brought along. This one was a work of fiction, describing the story of a young doctor falling in love with a spirit. It was actually from Karla’s collection of romance novels, but he had fond memories of reading it with her and sharing their opinions on it when they were younger, so she had agreed to part with it when he had packed the belongings he would take with him to the capital.

Arst stifled a yawn, then hid a smile behind his hand when he saw the prince’s expression change and his hand trace characters quickly, like in a trance. Inspiration must have struck. The way the brush danced on the paper was mesmerizing. His posture straight, with a ray of setting sunlight highlighting that strand of golden hair that always seemed to resist taming, the prince looked like a picture of serenity and elegance. Arst caught himself regretting that the atmosphere was so tense between them. Quiet moments like these, where they simply coexisted in the same room, each focused on their own hobby, brought a certain sense of peace that Arst had never expected to find here.

 _That_ was the reason Arst had not—yet—slipped up and antagonized a Long Dau, not even when he had to endure snide remarks from the prince’s uncles at the banquet the other night. So far, Prince Lin had given him no reason to oppose him, and though his glares and silences were disconcerting, the delicate balance that had settled between them was not something Arst wanted to disturb. At this point, he considered it a miracle to be stuck with the one Long Dau who showed no interest in making his life miserable, and he was not about to try his luck.

Arst resumed his reading until the growing darkness required them to light candles. He set his book aside and stretched, aware of the curious gaze following his movements.

“Nils will be there with dinner soon,” he told the prince. “I’m going to tidy up.”

Prince Lin nodded and went back to writing.

Later that evening, Nils and a few servants brought dinner. Arst sat opposite the prince in silence, as usual. Lost in thought, he absentmindedly brought a piece of meat to his mouth… and immediately proceeded to choke on it. His eyes watered as his mouth erupted in burning pain.

“What’s wrong?” Prince Lin asked, alarmed. “Poison?”

“That’s not possible!” Nils exclaimed. “The food was checked!”

Arst did his best to swallow, wincing when the burning sensation spread to his throat. He shook his head, coughing. “S-Spice,” he managed to croak out. Through the tears, he saw the prince frown and take a bite from his plate. He chewed with a thoughtful expression while Arst reached for a cup of water.

“This is rather mild,” the prince commented, puzzled.

Arst nearly choked again, for entirely different reasons. This was considered mild?! Belatedly, he recalled that Xian Yang was on a strategic commercial route, and that spices from Xian Du and the Rakorum region were thus easy to come by. Their cuisine was therefore significantly more spiced than what Arst had grown up with, and that was without accounting for his personal inability to handle more than the mildest peppers. Thinking about it, he had been lucky that the meals served over the previous weeks had not been seasoned to this degree.

“N-Not used to it,” he explained between gulps. The water did little to quell the fire raging inside his mouth.

For once, the prince looked at him with an expression that was not the usual annoyance or indifference. If Arst had the mind to analyze it, he would probably find it to be caught between pity and amusement. As it was, he was too preoccupied with trying to regain his bearings. He missed what the prince whispered to Nils, but the attendant left the house in a hurry.

“I’m fine,” Arst muttered. He considered the plates in front of him. The meat was definitely dangerous, but the red flakes sprinkled over the vegetables told him those were a trap, too. _No escape, then_ , he thought pitifully, steeling himself.

“You don’t have to—” Prince Lin started.

“I’m fine,” Arst repeated. And promptly gobbled another piece. This time, he was prepared for it, so he was able to control his reaction, although this did nothing to abate the pain.

Prince Lin was biting his lips, whose corners were upturned. It was probably taking him a lot of restraint not to burst out laughing, Arst had to hand him that. He felt thoroughly humiliated, but he had no one to blame but himself. This suffering must be a punishment for his pride.

He took another bite, and he must have looked rather pathetic doing so because the prince winced in sympathy. “You don’t have to force yourself,” he said. Arst responded by swallowing another piece of vegetable, holding his gaze with determination. Prince Lin shook his head with a small smile. “Stubborn man…”

After a few more bites of the dreadful meal, Arst started to feel his mouth becoming numb. Just when he thought this would make the ordeal more bearable, Nils came back, balancing a plate with one hand while he opened the door with the other.

“Milk, plain rice, and sweets,” he described as he set each element in front of Arst.

“This should help soothe your palate,” Prince Lin explained.

“My palate is _fine_.”

The prince snorted and tried to hide his smile by drinking from his own cup. Finally conceding defeat, Arst reached for the milk and drank, letting it linger in his mouth for a moment. It worked much better than water to alleviate the burning sensation. “Thank you,” he muttered honestly. The prince merely nodded in acknowledgment and resumed eating.

They did not talk any more while they finished their dinner, though Arst felt the weight of the prince’s gaze on him the entire time. Arst felt the urge to say something, anything that could start a conversation and break the silence he was now used to in this house. The prince looked to be in a good mood for once (all thanks to his own suffering, Arst admitted sullenly), so perhaps he would be more open to attempts at small talk. However, Arst did not know what to say.

Surprisingly, it was the prince who approached him first, as they were settling into their respective beddings for the night. “Do you like romance novels?” he asked out of the blue.

Arst looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Ah, I just happened to recognize the cover of the book you were reading earlier,” the prince explained. “A good choice,” he added, nodding approvingly.

“It’s technically my sister’s, although we have always shared our favorites. Darhan is quite remote, so good books are hard to come by. This is certainly one of those we’ve reread the most.”

The prince’s eyes widened, as though he could not fathom growing up without everything he wanted at his disposal and having to rely on a sibling to provide entertainment. “Come with me tomorrow,” he said quickly. “The castle library is well furnished. I can help you find more.” No sooner had the words left his mouth that doubt crossed his expression. He looked hesitant, like he was not sure how Arst would take his proposition.

Arst smiled his first genuine smile in weeks. “I shall trust your advice, then.”

The castle library was, as Prince Lin had promised, well-furnished indeed. Arst had only seen the building from the outside, and it had seemed quite big even then, but standing among the endless rows of books and scrolls, Arst could not hide his amazement.

“This is the largest library in all of Auj Oule,” Prince Lin bragged. “It didn’t use to be that big, but Mother sponsored its expansion.”

“Do you share your readings with her, then?” Arst asked curiously.

Prince Lin nodded. “And Nils too, but he does not have an eye for rhymes like she does.”

Arst did not know the queen of the Long Dau clan well—he’d only caught glimpses of her here and there, and the longest he’d been in her presence was at the wedding ceremony. From his observations, though, she looked like a refined lady. He supposed that a taste for the literary arts fit her image.

“She’s always considered literacy and education important,” Prince Lin explained absentmindedly while shuffling through a shelf’s contents. His hand stopped on a book with a dark cover. He hesitated a moment before taking it out and handing it to Arst. “If you like adventure with a touch of romance, you might enjoy this one. It’s a story about a group of characters trying to save their world from prophesied destruction. The plot is well-woven together, although the ending has been known to spark debate.”

Arst took the book and traced his fingers over the title, his interest piqued. “That sounds promising.”

“I would be interested to hear your thoughts.” Prince Lin’s expression was solemn, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that reminded Arst of the times when Karla talked about her interests.

After that, the prince let him explore the library at his leisure. The shelves were divided into sections, classing the works by type and genre. More than the fiction section Prince Lin had showed him first, or the poem anthologies the prince was currently shifting through, it was the vast choice of philosophical treaties and military manuals that caught Arst’s attention.

“So much knowledge, all gathered in one place…” he murmured. Feeling the prince’s interrogative gaze, he elaborated. “Father had to travel down here to find us a history book that was not terribly out of date. And we were lucky to have a good tutor. The heirs to the Pasham clan could not name more than five clans under Long Dau administration, and three of those are their neighbors. Books like these… they are hard to find in the north.”

“Couldn’t you invite traveling merchants? That is how we usually acquire publications from Rashugal.”

Arst shook his head. “The region is too remote and the clime is harsh. Merchants only come with supplies from which they can be sure to profit, and our clans do not have much funds to spare on non-necessities.”

“I see…” Prince Lin was frowning in thought, trying to reconcile Arst’s description with the life he had always known. He must have grown up rather sheltered, Arst realized.

Arst had been dealing with the Long Dau clan for nearly a decade now, either with envoys or directly with the ruling family. He had taken orders from the prince’s uncles on several occasions, and of course from Chief Lars when the situation called for his involvement, but had never met the prince himself—he’d seen him a few times from afar, especially when he was younger, but had never been in close contact with him. Come to think of it, it was strange that he had never fought alongside the prince’s troops. There were few campaigns or skirmishes Arst had not participated in since he’d made his debut on a real battlefield, and surely the prince should have attended some of them. But try as he might, Arst could not remember seeing him among their troops.

“Have you ever left the capital?” Arst asked.

“I’ve been to Xian Du, sometimes…” Prince Lin answered. “And to the royal capital, to pay respect to the king when I came of age.”

Arst had never met the King of Auj Oule. The royal clan was known not to bother itself with the smaller clans, and dealt only with the major clans administrating the country’s vast territories. Officially, it stood above all the others. But in practice, its influence on the other six major clans hung on a thin thread. The king rarely intervened in squabbles over territories as long as the other clans respected his supremacy. A balance was thus struck between the influential clans, leaving smaller clans like the Outways at the mercy of their rulers’ whims.

As the heir to the great Long Dau clan, Prince Lin was expected to follow his father’s footsteps on the warpath. And yet, even though he was long past the age for his first real battle, Arst had never seen him in action, nor even heard any talk about his skills. From his observations, the prince spent most of his days at the library or in his study at home. He went out to the city a couple of times, but Arst had not been allowed to accompany him, despite itching to get out of the castle for once. None of those instances had seemed to be related to martial practice, however.

“If you’ve been to Khan Baliq, you must have crossed the Mon Highlands,” Arst remarked. “Darhan is under a similar clime, though the road is less maintained.”

“That sounds… unpleasant.”

Arst shrugged. “We’re used to it. And it has some advantages too.” One of which being that the arduous access gave their clan some much-needed natural protection. Although they would not stand a chance against the full force of the Long Dau, a northern campaign would be costly to them. This was a good deterrent against would-be invaders, and probably one of the main reasons they were less likely to be the target of a punitive expedition than the clans residing in the milder eastern region of the Long Dau’s territories. It was no wonder, then, that Arst’s numerous acts of insubordination had been tolerated for so long, when Lars Long Dau was usually known for his ruthlessness against the smallest hint of dissidence.

Arst and the prince spent the remainder of the day in the library, reading in comfortable silence and exchanging comments from time to time. Nils came to bring them lunch and joined them for a while, but he left again to run errands in the afternoon. Hunger was the main reason they headed home in the evening. They were discussing the recent plot twist in Arst’s new book on the way back when they were interrupted by a gruff call.

“Līn!”

Arst stopped in his tracks, recognizing the voice as Lars Long Dau’s. He immediately turned toward him and bowed. Next to him, Prince Lin nodded in greeting with a tense “Father.”

Lars Long Dau strode toward them, his eyes fixed on his son. He looked irate, but then again Arst had never seen him in a good mood. For once, his anger was not directed at him, however.

“I met Rian Li,” Lars declared. Arst recognized the name as belonging to the instructor whose lessons he had been attending with other noble youths at the castle’s training hall.

Prince Lin kept his gaze on the ground, waiting for his father to continue.

“He told me you have been skipping practice again.”

“I…”

“I allowed some leeway for you to get settled in your marital life, but it is past time you resumed. Even _he_ has been attending!” Lars pointed to Arst, who merely inclined his head, determined to avoid bringing attention to himself. Lars continued his tirade in Long Dau. The meaning was lost on Arst, but judging by his tone and Prince Lin’s frozen expression, his words must not have been pleasant. “Anyway,” he switched back to the common tongue after a while, “the next session is in two days. I’d better hear reports of your attendance. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

Lars Long Dau left as briskly as he had appeared, leaving his son to glare at the ground in silence. When it didn’t seem like he would move, Arst took a step toward him, but at that moment the prince looked up and started walking toward their residence, stepping around him without a glance. Arst swallowed what he had been about to say and caught up with him.

They would speak no word of this encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when I write Lars Long Dau I wonder if I make him too much of an ass, and then I remember there's a reason Gaius rebelled against him in the original timeline...


	6. Disillusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst finally gets a chance to test Lin's skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come bearing... some action and angst. *laughs nervously* Just when things were getting better...
> 
> **CW:** Heed the tags. This chapter contains punishment in the form of physical violence. If you want to skip it, it's just a short scene after the duel. See end note for tl;dr

Prince Lin made good on his promise to attend the next practice session, and Arst was secretly eager to see how he would fare.

The instructor, Rian Li, was a distant cousin of the main branch. He was a tall man in his forties who had come to dedicate his life to training the youth of the clan after an injury took him out of the battlefield permanently. The injury had long since healed, but he never went far without a cane, which he often waved around to demonstrate the forms he taught, or to correct his pupils’ posture. The man was very strict, making them practice until they could reproduce his instructions perfectly, but with that strictness came a certain rigidity that Arst sometimes found frustrating. He had never been good at falling in line meekly, and often found ways to improve artes to suit his style better. Unlike Kohei, who adapted his teaching to his disciples’ own strengths, the Long Dau instructor demanded uniformity, which was why Arst had to forego his preferred long sword in favor of regular size practice swords. It had taken him some time to get used to it, as force of habit caused him to misjudge distances at first, but a blade was a blade, and there was no challenge Arst was not ready to take up when it came to the battle arts. Within two weeks he’d secured his place at the top among the other students, which had earned him resentment and admiration in equal measure.

That day, Arst reached the training hall early, as he usually did, and headed to the courtyard where they all practiced. Some other disciples were already there and waved him over.

“Arst! We were just talking about you!” one of the young men said with a grin.

“Oh? What were you saying?”

“Soren here said he’s pretty confident he can beat you today.”

Arst raised his eyebrows at the man in question. “And what makes you think you can?”

Soren stuck out his chin proudly. “I’ve been practicing. I think I figured out how to get past your guard.”

Arst grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

Soren held his gaze defiantly, while the other two—Dan and Liang—debated on who to bet on in hushed voices. The three of them were sons of notable courtiers who had attended lessons together since they were young. They were close friends and had quickly warmed up to Arst, welcoming him in their group for some friendly competition. They kept chatting animatedly while the courtyard filled with other trainees—most of them were also sons of important courtiers or ministers, while the rest were members of the main family. Prince Lin was among the last to arrive, and his appearance was met with glances and whispers.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is that the prince?” Soren asked. “It’s been _ages_.”

“What is he even doing here?” Dan whispered back. “It’s not like he—” He was interrupted by Liang elbowing him. Liang nodded in Arst direction with a tense look, and the others fell silent after that. Arst was about to ask them what they meant when the arrival of Instructor Li put an end to all conversations.

Arst did not get to see much of the prince during warm-up and form practice, as the latter stayed close to his cousins, whom Arst’s group tended to avoid. Then came time for mock battles, where disciples took turns against each other. Arst’s first match was against Soren, who, contrary to his bold declaration earlier, did not manage to get past his guard at all.

“Aw man, I was so sure I got it this time,” he whined as his practice sword hit the ground, torn from his hands by one of Arst’s powerful hits.

“Better luck next time,” Arst offered.

When he looked around, he noticed that Prince Lin’s own fight was already over, with no indication as to how it’d gone. The same pattern repeated over the next few rounds as they switched sparring partners, until the prince was matched against Soren. Once again, Arst was too focused on his own fight to follow what they were doing, but the noise of Soren’s sword hitting the ground with a clang brought the attention of everyone in their vicinity. Arst and his opponent both paused, taking in the scene. Soren was standing away from the prince, too far for the latter to have disarmed him.

“Oh no!” Soren exclaimed loudly, causing even more disciples to stop and look at him. “Would you look at that? Prince Lin, your power is so great that it made my sword slip from my fingers on its own!”

Around them, some people started to snicker. Prince Lin was glaring at Soren, clearly displeased with his joke.

“Ah, don’t you know? My cousin is so strong even a glare can defeat you!” The man who spoke was called Xing Long Dau. He was the eldest son of Yan Long Dau, the oldest of Lars’ younger brothers. Arst did not know Xing well, but the man often acted like he ruled the place and liked to bully those lower in status. It was the first time Arst saw him interact with Prince Lin, however.

“What is going on here?” asked Instructor Li, coming to investigate the interruption.

“Master Li!” Xing exclaimed in fake surprise. “We have a bit of a problem! No one here is a match for Lin. It must be terribly boring for him to defeat us all without breaking a sweat. He will never find a worthy opponent at this rate. Unless…” He looked around slowly, deliberately, until his eyes fell on Arst and his lips stretched into a smirk. “Hasn’t Arst here taken the spot of top disciple during his absence? Perhaps they should test their strength against each other? They are married, after all. They should know by now how each other handles his sword.”

Arst did not like the mocking way Xing was phrasing it, but truth to be told, he welcomed the opportunity to test himself against the prince. “Fine by me,” he declared, readjusting his grip on his sword. Prince Lin stared at him for a long moment, before moving to stand across from him. Arst smiled and offered a nod of encouragement.

“All right, all right, everyone back to your own practice.” Instructor Li urged the others to focus again, and walked away to take care of the other groups.

When the signal to start was given, Arst immediately went on the offensive. Prince Lin barely had time to block his strike, and the force made him take a few steps back. Arst did not stop his assault, and this time the prince was too slow and found himself with the tip of Arst’s wooden sword under his chin before he could react. He held his breath, his eyes wide with surprise and another emotion Arst was not sure how to interpret. Next to them, the fighting stopped. Arst lowered his sword and Prince Lin released his breath, while a wave of whispers spread around them. Before Arst could break eye contact to see what they were whispering about, the prince fixed him with a determined look.

“Again.”

Not one to step away from a challenge, Arst stepped back into position and nodded for him to begin. This time, he let the prince make the first move. Prince Lin lunged at him in a way that was much too open—Arst could have easily slipped past his guard and disarmed him, but he merely stood in place and intercepted the hit with his sword. Over the next few hits they traded, Arst noticed that the prince lacked strength and often made basic mistakes. It seemed impossible that he would be able to defeat the likes of Dan and Soren, who excelled in both technique and physical strength. Arst thus came to a chilling realization: they must have been faking their losses against him. Slightly indignant, Arst put a little more strength into his next hit, and Prince Lin, who had not expected the sudden burst of power, was thrown back onto the ground, his own sword slipping from his hands and landing behind him. Nearby, someone gasped.

They remained like this for a moment, too shocked to move, until the instructor’s shrill voice broke them out of their daze. “ _What_ is going on here? I told you lot to focus on your own fights!”

He stepped out from the crowd that had somehow assembled around them, and fell silent when his eyes took in the scene. “Practice is over,” he declared in a low voice. Everyone’s attention snapped to him immediately, and he repeated himself more loudly. “Haven’t you heard? Practice is over! You lot are obviously too distracted today. Go home and reflect on your failings! Shoo! Shoo!” He waved his cane around to illustrate his point, and the crowd immediately dispersed. “You!” He pointed at Arst angrily. “Stay here.”

Prince Lin slowly got up and watched the other disciples scramble to get away. Xing stopped next to him on the way. “Seems like you’ve found your match,” he said smugly, before he walked away with his friends, whispering something that made them all laugh out loud, the prince’s glare following them until they disappeared into the hall.

Dan, Soren and Liang also passed near them. Out of them, only Liang stopped for a moment, to give Arst’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck,” he whispered. Sensing their instructor’s glare, he went away quickly, not leaving Arst time to respond. Before long, Arst, the instructor, and the prince were the only ones left in the courtyard. Prince Lin approached them, looking like he wanted to say something, but he closed his mouth before any word came out.

“Don’t worry,” Instructor Li told him. “I will tell Lord Lars that you performed well today.”

A dark look came over the prince’s face at his words, but he simply nodded curtly and left through the hall.

Now truly alone, Instructor Li turned toward Arst. “Come inside,” he said tersely.

Arst followed him into the deserted training hall with a sense of foreboding.

“Kneel,” the man ordered. For a brief second, Arst considered ignoring the order, but a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his father reminded him not to get into further trouble, so he did as instructed.

The first strike took him by surprise, and he lurched forward with a gasp as his back erupted in pain. He straightened up immediately, bracing himself for the next impact, determined not to show any further reaction. The second strike, though anticipated, was somewhat heavier, but this time no sound escaped his gritted teeth.

“How dare you!” Instructor Li snarled.

Arst was tempted to retort he had no idea what he was talking about, but he had a feeling that would only enrage the man more. The explanation came on its own anyway, as a fragmented rant between the blows.

“Who do you think you are…”

Strike.

“Just because you warm his bed at night…”

Another strike.

“No one, _no one_ is allowed to claim superiority to the prince.”

Arst gasped again, this time more from the realization than from the pain itself. Was this why everyone feigned defeat when they matched against the prince? Suddenly, the hushed whispers from earlier made sense. They’d _known_. It was an implicit rule, so ingrained in their common consciousness that no one had even thought to inform him, a newcomer. How many before him had been made to kneel in this very spot, to bear the consequence of their supposed insolence?

As he endured the next dozen of hits, Arst felt bitter hatred rise within him. So this was his husband’s true colors. Under his mask of indifference and his softer features, he was just as rotten as his father, after all. How typical of those prestigious elites to obfuscate their lack of talent with repression and violence. In the end, the prince was simply following in the footsteps of his ancestors, believing his birth to give him the right to toy with others as he wished.

It was not the first beating Arst had experienced at the hands of the Long Dau clan, nor was it even the worst, but this one left him shaking in rage even long after Rian Li had left the hall.

Thankfully, he managed to make it back without crossing anyone’s path. He went straight for the bathhouse, not even bothering to check if the prince had returned to their chambers (a breach of protocol, but he was past the point of caring). He quickly undressed and used the mirror to check the damage. His back was covered in bruises and welts, but at least the strikes had not broken skin, it seemed. Murmuring an incantation under his breath, Arst focused his mana into a healing arte, directing the spell to the areas that stung the most. The sensation was not unlike being doused with cold water, which was enough to distract him while the spell worked on repairing his aching body. The swelling and the pain receded somewhat, but the spell wasn’t enough to completely heal him. Arst had never been particularly well-versed in healing artes. He knew how to close cuts and slashes from common battle wounds, but blunt damage required another category of spells that he had not learned to manipulate well. Now he almost regretted not spending more time learning such artes, as they would have been a useful skill to have at his disposal in his current situation. At least the spell he cast did manage to provide _some_ relief, even if it could not completely erase all the bruises.

Afterward, Arst drew a bath for himself and soaked in it, letting his mind wander, contemplating the events of the past few weeks. No later than this morning, he had been happy to have made some progress with the prince. In just two days, the frosty atmosphere between them had thawed a little and they were able to hold a conversation naturally. He’d even caught himself _enjoying_ spending time with him in the library. Arst realized with a certain degree of shame that he’d even hoped they could develop a friendly relationship over time. What had he been thinking? There was no friendship to be had between the Long Daus and the Outways, and he’d been naive to even think the prince could be an exception. Prince Lin was his father’s son after all, why would he be any different? One day he would succeed Lars as chief, and continue his family tradition of seeking power at the expense of the smaller clans. And Arst would be trapped by his side, a powerless observer, unable to stop him.

Arst splashed water on his face, shaking off his spiraling thoughts. _No._ He refused to be powerless. He will not let him bully Karla and the rest of the clan. Not anymore. If it ever came to that…

“Maybe I should have actually rebelled when I had the chance…” he murmured to the empty room.

Prince Lin was waiting for him when he came back into the main house.

“Welcome back.”

Arst gave him what he hoped was his most intimidating glare, and the prince recoiled a little at the animosity. _Pathetic_ , Arst thought to himself. Lars Long Dau, for all that he was incapable of governing his territories fairly, was at least renowned as a great warrior. In fact, it was that very might that often kept other clans submissive. However, his son seemed to have inherited none of his strength, and was nothing but a weak coward whose status was the only thing keeping others in check. Arst now knew why he had never seen him on a battlefield: he would have been completely useless, and a disgrace to all his clan.

It was with these thoughts swirling through his mind that Arst lay restless on his futon that night, kept awake by the dull ache in his back and the overwhelming disgust he now felt for the man lying on the bed next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr: Arst is beaten for "daring" to best Lin at sword practice and now hates everything, Lin especially :'(
> 
> Will their relationship be able to recover?


	7. Hostility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst has learned his lesson, and Lin has lost his trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: "Arst's no good very bad day"

When Arst arrived at the training hall for the next practice session, Dan, Soren and Liang, as well as some other disciples, immediately flocked to him and started talking all at once.

“Arst, are you all right?”

“What did the old man do?”

“How many hits?”

“That must have hurt…”

“How did the prince react?”

“We were so worried—”

Arst raised his hands to stop the barrage of questions. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

They quieted down and looked at him expectantly. Put on the spot like that, Arst felt a little self-conscious. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, really…”

“You were so _brave_ ,” Soren said with admiration in his eyes. Others nodded eagerly. “It was high time someone took that vain coward down a peg.”

“I knew there was something different about you,” Dan said proudly.

“Does this happen often?” Arst asked, a little overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Sometimes?” Liang answered. “We’ve all been punished one way or another for disrespecting the prince, but it’s the first time someone actually pushed him to the ground.”

“That was glorious! Made my entire day,” Soren said dreamily. His smile disappeared when he saw Arst’s expression. “Ah, but you had to suffer for it… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t make light of it…”

“Why…” Arst had so many questions. Why was the prince so weak? Why did they all put up with such treatment? What was Xing expecting when he set up their duel?

In the end, he was not able to ask any of them, because Instructor Li came in and ordered them to start practicing immediately instead of gossiping. Arst’s back protested at the sharp movements, but he ignored the pain and focused on his forms. That was better than letting himself be distracted by questions whose answers were sure to only anger him further. He swung his practice sword fiercely, promising himself that the artes he learned here would one day be used to protect his family, even if he had to turn them against everyone present in this courtyard. Especially the man he was married to.

When the time came for mock battles, Instructor Li paired him with the prince from the start. “You should show us what you’ve learned, hmm?” the man told him with a hint of warning in his glare.

Arst ignored him and looked over to Prince Lin, who was getting into position. “Do your best,” the prince said with a small smirk, as if to mock him. Arst didn’t react outwardly, but inside he was seething. _So that_ _’s how it is…_

Arst was facing two choices. He could comply and suffer the humiliation of losing against someone he knew was much weaker than him. Or he could defy Instructor Li’s orders and show the prince who truly was the most skilled between the two, consequences be damned. His pride clamored for the second option, but in the end his aching back reminded him that the consequences were not worth the short-lived satisfaction of putting the prince to the ground again, and he swallowed his pride. _Save your defiance for when it really matters_ , he told himself.

Losing did not necessarily entail fighting badly, however. As it was only the result that mattered, Arst made sure to show the prince that he had lost none of his skills. He simply refrained from putting power in his swings, but they were no less swift and accurate, and the prince struggled to parry for a moment. After toying with him a little, Arst simply let him disarm him, as if he hadn’t seen his move coming.

When Arst begrudgingly voiced his surrender, Instructor Li nodded at him approvingly. He felt sick. This was a mockery of all the efforts and hard work he had poured into his training since he was a child. Suddenly, Arst found himself acutely missing Kohei. He would not have tolerated this. Kohei was his tutor in the Outway clan, but Arst’s status as an heir had never stopped him from encouraging him to seek stronger opponents. In the Outway clan, giving your all, even against a weaker opponent, was a sign of respect. This was how they improved, and it was good preparation for a real battle, where no adversary would think to go easy on a weaker enemy. Perhaps if the prince had trained with an instructor like Kohei, who wouldn’t have coddled him and prevented others from fighting him seriously, perhaps then he would actually be stronger.

Arst did not look at him, not wanting to see satisfaction on his face. He turned away and looked around for someone else to switch partners with. But the prince seemed to have no desire to continue anyway, and informed the instructor that he would be leaving early.

“Prince Lin, your father insisted that you must practice till the end,” Instructor Li argued.

“What’s the point?” Prince Lin retorted in a low voice. “I’ve just won against the strongest of your disciples. There is no meaning to these mock battles anymore.”

“Ah, well… Yes, I suppose individual training was enough for you…”

Prince Lin was eventually allowed to leave, and Arst felt a little better knowing that he was not in his immediate vicinity anymore. He tried to focus on his other fights, but his heart was not in it, and he ended up losing against Soren, though the man did not celebrate his long-awaited victory.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

Arst felt anything but okay. The strain of the exercise had aggravated his injuries, and the pain was getting distracting. He wanted nothing more than go home and rest, but of course he would not be alone at home either. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he said.

Like the day before, the first thing he did when practice was over was to head to the bathhouse. Soaking in the water brought some relief to his sore body, and he knew that the prince would not bother him there. He was not quite ready to face him just yet. Alone with his thoughts, Arst wondered how long this would last. He had been granted a few weeks of peace, but it was now clear that nothing good would ever come out of this marriage. Naively, Arst had started to feel safe here, in the prince’s residence, insulated from the rest of the castle and, by extension, the clan. But the prince was never meant to be an ally, and he felt foolish for almost considering him one. The thought of spending the rest of his life subject to his whims appalled him. At least he hadn’t been forced to sleep with him. _Yet_ , his mind added grimly, because there was no guarantee that he would not change his mind eventually. Arst wondered how he would react when it happened. On their wedding night, he had been ready to do it. Not exactly eager, but resigned to do his duty and not completely repulsed by the idea. But now… Now he knew what kind of person his husband was, and the thought sent shivers down his spine.

Prince Lin was reading in his study when Arst entered the main house. Arst ignored him and went to the bedroom to set up his futon. He heard the prince get up and come over, but he paid him no mind.

“It’s still the middle of the afternoon,” the prince remarked.

“I’m tired,” Arst grumbled as he set his pillow down.

“Tired? Already?” Prince Lin asked, dubious.

Irritated, Arst turned toward him. “What? Is resting before bedtime forbidden or something? What’s it to you?”

The prince frowned. “I was hoping to discuss your performance earlier.”

Arst nearly swore at the provocation, but miraculously, the part of him that had assimilated his father’s lessons kept him from saying something he would regret. _Calm down_ , he chanted in his mind. _Calm down, it_ _’s not worth it._

The prince sighed. “Never mind.” He turned around and went back to the main hall. He sat at the table and poured himself a cup of tea.

Arst forgot his resolution not to rise to the provocation and followed him. “What is it? If you have something to say, say it.”

Prince Lin stared down at his cup with a somber expression. After a while, he looked up at Arst. “You faked your loss.”

Arst scoffed. “Of course I did. Everyone does.” Prince Lin cringed. “What? Don’t tell me you never realized.”

“I did…” the prince muttered. “I did. I just…”

“It’s great to be the son of a major clan’s chief, isn’t it? You don’t even have to fight your own battles. Everyone just submits to you, even when you lack the skills to do it properly.”

“Then what about you?” the prince retorted, offended. “You had no problem fighting me properly yesterday. But now you submit easily like everyone else. I thought you were different.”

Anger spiked in Arst’s chest. Was this all a game to him? “Well, I’ve learned my lesson. Sorry to disappoint, but even I have my limits.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Prince Lin opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned in thought, then suddenly looked back at Arst with wide eyes. “You…”

Arst held his gaze defiantly. He would not give him the satisfaction to see how much he was affected.

Prince Lin rose to his feet. “Show me,” he asked tensely.

Taken aback by the sudden request, Arst took a step backward defensively. “There is nothing to see.”

“Show me. Now.” There was something intense, frantic, in the prince’s look.

Reluctantly, Arst removed his shirt and turned around. Behind him, he heard a sharp intake of breath. The prince said nothing, but Arst could feel his eyes on his back. His cheeks burned in humiliation. Was it not enough to be beaten under his orders, did he really have to submit to his scrutiny as well?

“There, are you happy?” he asked bitterly as he turned back to face him. “You don’t have to worry about losing to me anymore, the message has been received. Painfully clear.”

Prince Lin did not respond. Instead, he walked to the chest of drawers and busied himself with one of the drawers on the lower rows. But instead of taking out whatever he was looking for, he suddenly paused.

“We are out of tea,” he stated.

Confused by what that had to do with the discussion at hand, Arst pointed to the teapot the prince had used earlier. “There is some over there.”

“Not that one. I need Minah’s special blend.”

Arst did not know who Minah was, nor did he care.

“Put on your shirt,” Prince Lin said. “You are going to fetch some.”

“Can’t Nils do it?” Arst protested. He wanted to rest, not run random errands.

“You are going,” the prince replied in a final tone.

Arst was tempted to refuse, out of pettiness more than anything, but he was sore all over and not ready to test the prince’s patience, in case he decided to add fresh bruises to the ones that were barely healing thanks to his meager artes. Dejectedly, he listened to the prince’s instructions and set out to find this ‘Minah.’ At least he would be out of his sight while he was out on his quest for tea.

Minah, it turned out, was an elderly woman who ran the castle’s apothecary.

“My, here’s a new face! I haven’t seen you around.” She had piercing grey eyes that scrutinized Arst from behind a pair of glasses. “What can I do for you, boy?”

 _I_ _’m not a ‘boy’_ , Arst thought petulantly. Aloud, he said, “Prince Lin sends me. He said he needs some of your special blend.” _Whatever that is_ _…_

“Already? Didn’t he restock just before his marr—Ooh, I know who you are!” she exclaimed suddenly, snapping her fingers. “You are his new concubine, aren’t you? The Outway boy.”

It felt strange to be stared at so openly. Arst had gotten used to the furtive glances and whispers he garnered here and there before the novelty of his presence wore off, but this woman was looking him up and down intently, which made him feel a little self-conscious.

“Well, well, aren’t you handsome? Looks like our young master lucked out.”

Arst had a few choice words to say about the concept of ‘lucking out’ with the prince, but he kept them to himself. “The tea. Please.”

“Ah, yes, yes, yes, the tea, the tea…” She foraged under the counter for a while until she produced a sachet and set it on the counter. Arst reached out to take it, but she snatched it away before he had a chance to touch it, looking at him closely over her glasses. “Not so fast, boy. Not before I receive payment.”

Payment? The prince had said nothing about payment. “I didn’t bring any money…”

She dismissed him impatiently. “Not money, no. Just a little labor.” Catching his frustrated expression, she was quick to reassure him. “It’s nothing, don’t worry. I just need a little favor.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, you see, this old lady is getting frail over the years. Now I could use a stepladder, but we don’t want me to break any bones if I fall, hmm? You’re so tall, I’m sure it will be no trouble for you to get that box from the top that shelf over there?” She pointed to a shelf on his right, which did indeed have a box precariously balanced on top.

“That, I can do,” he confirmed, and reached with his right arm, before drawing it back with a wince as pain coursed through his shoulder at the movement. He was about to reach with his other hand, but she was faster than him and with reflexes he did not anticipate from someone who called herself a ‘frail old lady,’ she grabbed his collar from behind and pulled, exposing his right shoulder.

“Ah-ha. I knew it,” she muttered. She let go as swiftly as she had grabbed him, and took a few steps back. Arst knew what was coming even before she spoke the dreaded words. “Take it off.”

Arst closed his eyes in frustration, still facing away from her. Why was everyone so intent on taking pleasure in his misery today? “This would be quite inappropriate.”

The old woman cackled. “Boy, I am old enough to be your grandmother. Nobody would assume impropriety if they saw you disrobe in here.” Her voice more gentle, she added, “Come on. I cannot help you if you don’t show me.”

The sweet tone made Arst sway. He turned around, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Help me?”

Minah smiled and produced a stool from behind the counter. “Take your shirt off and sit here.”

Hesitantly, Arst took a step forward, then another, and before he knew it he was sitting shirtless on the seat.

“Yes, you’re quite handsome indeed,” she muttered absentmindedly as she fetched another stool for herself. “And strong, from the look of it. How fortunate. Now, let’s see about that… _those_ bruises.” She fell silent for a moment, examining his back carefully. He nearly jumped when she touched the largest bruise, the one near his shoulder. Her hand was cool against his warm skin. “You poor thing, what did they do to you…” She traced a finger along a welt further down. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” She drew back in surprise. “Some of them are already fading… Aah, there was an attempt at healing artes.”

Arst nodded.

“Yours? My, handsome, strong, _and_ talented!”

“It didn’t really work, though…”

“Did it at least provide some relief?”

Arst nodded again. “A little. But it started hurting again after today’s practice.”

“Of course it did. What you need is rest, not exercise. You should have gone to the castle’s healers.”

Arst doubted the court healers would have agreed to treat him. But truthfully, the thought had not even crossed his mind.

“Or maybe not,” Minah continued, “depending on how you got those… They are good with illness and battle injuries, but not very sympathetic when the wounds are the result of punishment. What a shame, ah, what a shame… Still, a little is better than nothing. Especially since I hear healers are rare up north. You have potential, that’s for sure.”

Arst blushed a little at the praise. He was used to people admiring his battle skills, but that was the first time anyone called a half-failed attempt at casting spells potential-worthy.

“How did you know I was hurt?” he asked to change the subject.

“A hunch,” she replied. “I thought it was strange you would come all the way here just for a bag of tea. Well, _that_ tea, in particular. More concretely, your cheeks are flushed, not just from my compliments but from exhaustion and pain. And you looked stiff all over. The wince was a dead giveaway, too.”

Arst let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. He had underestimated her. She was much sharper than she appeared.

“Little old lady has more than one trick up her sleeve,” she remarked humorously. “Now, now. Let’s take care of this, shall we?” She patted Arst’s back lightly. He felt a surge of mana shimmering behind him. _“Gather forth the soothing light.”_

Arst gasped as the cold sensation of the healing light doused him. It was not unlike his own feeble attempt, yet completely different in intensity. He could almost picture the sparks of light dancing on his back, halting on every bruise, every welt, working their soothing effect to appease them, fade them, and eventually disappear. Relief coursed through him and he almost sobbed in gratitude as the tension in his body eased.

“There, all fixed,” Minah commented at long last in a warm voice. “You’ll feel sore for a couple of days still before your brain catches on that the wounds are gone. Rest and hot baths, and it’ll be like nothing happened.”

Arst turned to face her. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She simply laughed and patted his shoulder. “Don’t mention it. Now, how about you get me that box?”

Arst sprang to his feet and went to grab the box from its high place.

“Thank you. You can place it there on the counter. You can have your tea. Oh, but wait, I have something else for you.” Minah rummaged through her shelves and came back with two small pots, which she slid in his direction. “Salves,” she explained. “The one with the blue cap is good for bruises and muscle pain. The one with the red cap for cuts and burns. In case you can’t get to a healer immediately.” She winked. She then took out a little box from the larger one Arst had brought down. It was like a small wooden chest, lacquered and decorated with painted flowers. “For storage and easy transport,” she said as she handed it to him. The two pots fit into it perfectly, and there was even a sleeve to slip the tea sachet in.

“Thank you,” Arst said again.

“Come back any time,” she told him. “Give my greetings to the prince. Oh, and tell him not to waste the tea. It’s not easy to come by.”

Arst promised to relay the message, and stepped out of the apothecary into the bright afternoon sun. His body was still stiff and a little sore, but his mind felt considerably lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least he made a friend :)
> 
> Minah was originally supposed to have a very minor role, but she just developed a life of her own and now she has a defined personality and a backstory and everything. Anyway, expect to see her show up again in the future x)


	8. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst is still mad and makes a lot of assumptions. Lin gets his revenge.

Arst made a point to avoid the prince as much as possible. He left the house when he was home, came back when he was away, and always found random chores to do in order to avoid interacting with him. He cleaned, rearranged the cabinets (and if he ‘accidentally’ displaced some of the prince’s brushes, well… he would deal with the consequences later), and ostensibly practiced on his own in the courtyard. The prince tried to engage him in conversation a few times, but Arst’s replies were always curt, and eventually even that stopped after a while. It was like they reverted to how it was at the beginning, except this time Arst was much too irritated to care about the awkwardness.

Even Nils noticed something was wrong.

“What’s with that attitude?” he asked one day when they were alone in the house.

“Hmm?” Arst feigned ignorance, because he did not want to deal with Nils right now.

“You’re just…” He made swinging motions with his hands to emphasize his point. “… _oozing_ contempt whenever Lin is in the room. It’s disrespectful.”

“Maybe Prince Lin should avoid being worthy of contempt, then,” Arst bit back.

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” Nils looked incredibly offended. “When has Lin ever done anything to warrant such attitude from you?”

“When indeed…” Arst echoed bitterly. The traces of his ordeal were now gone, but he was not going to forget about it any time soon.

“He’s been nothing but patient and courteous! In fact, I think he’s been far too lenient with you as of late. You should be put in your place.”

“Why don’t you do it, then?” Arst asked him defiantly. “What’s stopping you?”

The question took Nils by surprise. “I… You’re a high-ranked concubine. It’s not my place…”

“Then keep your opinions to yourself. Or take it up to your precious Lin, maybe he’ll do something about it for once instead of letting others fight his battles.”

“You…”

“Drop it, Nils. I don’t want to waste my time arguing with you.”

Nils’ cheeks flushed in anger. “Now, listen here…”

“I said, drop it.”

“What is going on? I could hear you from the gate.”

Startled, they both turned to see the prince standing in the doorway. He was eying them suspiciously.

Nils was the first to recover. “Lin! Arst is being really disrespectful toward you.”

The prince sighed wearily and massaged his temples. “This is not new.”

Arst nearly protested at the jab, but he had to concede that the prince was right. He just did not believe that it was unwarranted.

“Drop it, Nils.”

“But Lin…”

“I am tired. I do not need you two arguing loudly.” Before Nils could protest any further, the prince crossed the room toward the study area and sat down at his desk, pointedly ignoring them. Nils just stood there, looking disgruntled, caught between the urge to speak up and the desire to respect Prince Lin’s wishes.

A few days later, Arst found himself facing the prince at practice again. They had managed to avoid getting matched against each other for a while, but it was only a matter of time before they circled back to each other.

Arst sighed, trying to prepare himself to go easy. His previous round against Soren had been a close one, and his blood was clamoring for more worthy competition. Maybe he should end this quickly and seek another partner as soon as possible.

They got into position, and when the signal to start was given, Arst lazily swung his sword at the prince. Such a weak and obvious swipe should be easy to intercept and disarm, but to Arst’s surprise, the prince did no such thing. Instead, he stepped back quickly to avoid it, and took advantage of Arst’s confusion to lunge at him from the side. Arst parried out of sheer reflex, before he remembered that he was supposed to leave himself open. He had no time to readjust, however, because the prince attacked again, trying to find an opening for himself. Arst blocked again, and before he knew it his instincts took over and he retaliated with a swift strike that sent the prince’s sword flying to the side. Realization struck a second too late. Arst cursed inwardly. What was he doing?! Getting into it just because the prince achieved one good move on a fluke…

The prince’s expression was more akin to confusion than anger. His eyes were fixed on his sword, as if he could not understand what it was doing on the ground. The neighboring groups who had noticed what happened started whispering, and this time Arst could make out what was being said.

“Uh-oh…”

“Wow, he’s done it again.”

“He must be a glutton for punishment.”

“Look at Prince Lin’s face, hah!”

“Arst, dude…”

The last one was Soren’s voice, full of admiration.

Arst did not need their admiration or pity. This was not a game, this was sick reality. He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing himself for this slip-up. It would only be a minute before Instructor Li came yelling, and then... But before the man appeared, Prince Lin bent down and swiftly scooped up his sword. He turned back to Arst, sword pointed in his direction. “Again.”

Arst glared at him. Was he offering a chance to prove himself submissive? Would his punishment be reduced if he did? But Arst’s blood was boiling with anger and adrenaline. His competitive spirit was not quelled—quite the contrary. He knew it was too late. He had already earned himself a beating, so what would a few more blows do, at this stage? If the prince wanted to teach him a lesson, then he would have to earn it.

Arst readied himself and moved the moment the prince announced the start. Prince Lin was ready for him, this time, and held out when he blocked Arst’s powerful strike. But Arst was relentless, not leaving him any occasion to recover and go on the offensive. One swing from above, parried. One from below, parried, just in time…

_“Dragon Swarm!”_

Even without mana poured into the move, the arte was a powerful one. The last hit caught the prince on his side, under his guard, and he was sent tumbling down with a cry of pain. Arst felt a spike of guilt momentarily. No matter his feelings about him, actually hurting a sparring partner was bad form. But when he thought about what was awaiting him, he could not find it in himself to care much about the prince’s state.

Of course, Instructor Li witnessed it all, having reached them shortly after they started. He rushed to the prince’s side, asking him if he was okay.

“I’m fine,” the prince responded, a little out of breath.

“Spirits! Lin, if you keep eating dirt like that every time you spar with your concubine, I’m going to think you have weird kinks,” came Xing’s mocking voice. Two other cousins snickered at the joke, but the rest of the trainees, sensing their instructor’s imminent explosion, wisely stepped back and fled the grounds.

“Young Master Xing!” Instructor Li hissed in barely contained anger. “A report will be made to Lord Yan. Please leave now.”

Xing’s smirk showed them exactly what he thought of the threat, but he nevertheless left with his entourage, laughing with them all the way out.

Arst kept his eyes on the prince, who was still one the ground. His expression was hard to make out, as his hair, which had come undone during his fall, obscured most of his face.

“You!” Instructor Li exploded as soon as the last trainee disappeared. “How _dare_ you?! Have you learned nothing from last time?! Do you need a reminder?!”

Arst did not, but saying so would be pointless.

“Inside, now!” the instructor barked. “Remove your shirt and kneel!”

Arst squared his shoulders and walked toward the hall with determined steps. He would not show weakness this time. He would bear the beating proudly, his back straight, and no sound would escape his lips. However many blows Rian Li was planning to inflict on him, he would endure them all without a complaint.

When he stepped into the hall, he was soon followed by Prince Lin, who had half run after him. The prince caught his wrist when he reached for his shirt’s hems.

“Leave,” the prince ordered.

Arst blinked, the words not registering immediately. His eyes shifted to Rian Li, who had come in after him. The instructor looked as confused as he felt.

“Leave,” the prince repeated. “Wait for me at home.”

“Prince Lin, what are you saying?! This man deserves to kneel in repentance.”

The prince let go of Arst’s arm and turned toward their instructor. He spoke in a clear, assured voice that Arst had never heard before. For a moment, he almost appeared leader-like, but Arst dismissed the thought as soon as it came up. “Master Li,” Prince Lin said, “do you think me so incompetent that I cannot handle my own concubine myself?”

The man gasped and hurried to bow in apology. “Of course not. I was merely hoping to spare you the burden.”

“This man is mine,” Prince Lin declared. “No one is allowed to touch him but myself. Is that clear?”

“Y-Yes, but…”

“Rest assured, he will regret his impudent act.” His eyes shifted to Arst briefly and his lips widened in a dangerous smile. “I will not stop until he begs for mercy.”

For the first time, Arst felt something akin to fear. He had been ready to take anything Rian Lin threw at him, as he now knew what to expect from the man. But the prince was another matter, and Arst did not know what he was truly capable of when provoked. Clearly, he had taken his remark about letting others fight his battles to heart. And unlike the instructor, whose primary goal was to threaten and intimidate, the prince had a personal investment in making Arst pay, especially after the hit from earlier.

Without any further regard for the instructor, Prince Lin stalked out of the training hall, and Arst followed him with apprehension. Tonight was going to be another restless night…

The walk home from the training grounds never felt so short. The prince spoke to Arst as soon as they crossed the threshold. “Once you have freshened up, go to the kitchen to supervise preparations.”

“Shouldn’t Nils…”

“Nils is away tonight, so you are in charge. Do not think that I’m letting you go easy. Your duties comes first, that is all. I will deal with you later.”

Was this another form of torment? To make him wait and worry with anticipation, unsure of what to expect?

“I will use the bathhouse first. You can use it after I am done.” Prince Lin did not wait for his response. He picked up evening clothes from his wardrobe and headed toward the bathhouse, while Arst was left to ruminate on his fate. With rising dread, he tried to imagine what kind of revenge Prince Lin had in stores for him. Would he beat him with a stick, like Rian Li did? Or—and Arst could not repress a shudder at the thought—would he use a whip instead? Arst knew that whips were Lars Long Dau’s weapon of choice for punishment, so it would not be surprising to see his son adopt his methods.

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay,” he muttered to reassure himself. Just a bad night, and then he would go to old Minah for help, and a few days later he would forget all about it.

Unless… Unless the prince had other things in mind, things that no healing arte could erase.

Arst forced himself to stop this train of thought before his mind could come up with sordid details. There was no point in torturing himself with what-ifs. He would take what came to him in stride, and not linger on it a second more. To distract himself, he composed a letter to Karla (omitting the recent events, of course—there was no need to worry her), and he found some comfort in imagining her reading it to their family. Nevertheless, the feeling of trepidation did not completely go away.

After dinner, Prince Lin told Arst to sit and wait for him, while he retrieved a box from a shelf. Arst watched his movements with apprehension, but when the prince opened the box, it turned out that it contained nothing but a shogi board and pieces. To Arst’s confusion, he laid the board between them and started setting up the pieces.

“Do you know how to play?” he asked.

“I… Yes?” Arst replied, unsure how to react.

“Good.”

Arst watched as the prince aligned the pieces, too unsettled to offer his help. This was far from anything he had been expecting.

“Now,” Prince Lin said once he set the last pawn, “let’s see if your mind is as sharp as your sword.”

Arst understood at last. This must be one of his games, another way to play with his mind. Perhaps he wanted to test if Arst would finally submit and let him win. But unfortunately for him, Arst had gone too far already, and was not about to back down. It had been a while since he had last played shogi, but it was a game he used to enjoy playing with his father, and he had gotten quite good at it over the years. If Prince Lin thought he could defeat him that way, he was in for a surprise.

Surprisingly, Prince Lin did, indeed, defeat him—quite spectacularly, in fact. Worked up from the day’s events, Arst played far too aggressively, and the prince had no trouble anticipating his moves and using them to his advantage. Arst chastised himself for underestimating him. Being weak in combat did not necessarily mean that he was bad at everything, which Arst should have known, and yet had been too angry to see.

Prince Lin looked at him expectantly, but Arst was not going down without a fight.

“Again,” he said.

The prince smirked and started laying out the pieces again. “Somehow I knew you would say that. Maybe try not to rush in so openly this time.”

Arst’s chest burned in shame, but he swallowed his pride. He had learned his lesson. “Noted,” he answered humbly.

This time, Arst spent the opening focused on building his castle and strengthening his defenses. He let the prince start the attack and took his time analyzing his moves to avoid falling into his traps like the previous match. As the game progressed, Arst temporarily forgot the reason they were playing it to begin with, too caught up in the development on the board. When observed with a clear mind, the prince’s style was quite impressive. Where Arst and his father tended to play aggressively and rely on instinct, Prince Lin’s every move seemed carefully calculated, and his formations left little overture. Despite his caution this time around, Arst often found himself having to sacrifice pawns to make progress, and slowly but surely, the prince’s army crept closer to his king, until there was no way out.

Prince Lin’s expression was extremely smug. “Are you ready to beg for mercy or can you still go on?”

Something in the phrasing caught Arst’s attention. “You…” The realization came upon him like an avalanche, leaving him light-headed with relief and his mind reeling with too many questions. “Is _this_ what you meant when you told Li that I would beg for mercy?”

Prince Lin’s smirk widened wickedly. “Well… _Are_ you ready to beg?”

Arst was speechless, caught between the urge to curse or to laugh. Both at once, maybe. “No way in hell!”

“Then prepare for another humiliating defeat.”

And lose Arst did. Spectacularly.

On the fourth round, he thought he was starting to be able to predict the prince’s moves, but the man changed strategies midway flawlessly, scoring another victory. Arst called for yet another try.

“You haven’t learned your lesson yet, I see.” Prince Lin chuckled. He started setting the pieces on the board once again.

“In truth, you’re a sore loser, aren’t you?” Arst remarked suddenly.

“And you don’t know when to quit,” the prince shot back. A fair assessment, Arst had to begrudgingly admit. “You are right that I do not like losing,” Prince Lin admitted after a moment. “However, I hate being taken for a fool even more.” His smile faded and his eyes grew glossy in reminiscence. His hand lay on the board, the pieces forgotten.

“You didn’t know,” Arst asked softly. “Did you?”

Prince Lin blinked once. “I suspected that he must have bribed the others somehow. I never imagined…” He chuckled darkly. “I should have known. This has Uncle Yan’s meddling written all over it.” He looked up to meet Arst’s gaze. “The first time you defeated me, I was surprised. That was the first time in a long while since anyone had come at me seriously. I was… a little glad, I suppose. I thought it meant you were incorruptible.”

“But the next day I submitted like the others,” Arst said. He was starting to understand the prince’s mindset that day, and the frustrating conversation that ensued. “That’s why you wanted to talk about it,” he realized. “I thought you just wanted to mock me, but you… You were just disappointed. Am I right?”

Prince Lin nodded. “When he asked you to stay behind that day, I thought he was going to try to buy your compliance, and I was almost certain that you would reject his offer. That is why I did not stay. I… wanted to trust you, I suppose…” He shook his head sadly. “But it was not an offer, it was a threat. Had I known…”

“You do, now,” Arst pointed out. “And you stopped him today.”

That was something. That was _everything_. More than the comfort of being spared another beating, what provided Arst the most relief was the knowledge that his first assessment of the prince’s character hadn’t been wrong, after all. Prince Lin _was_ different from his father. He had never wanted him to be treated cruelly, and was even willing to step up to protect him.

“I’m sorry,” Arst blurted out. “About earlier. I shouldn’t have come at you so strongly. I took out my frustrations on you unfairly.”

Prince Lin brought his hand to his side, where Arst had hit him earlier. “I’m fine,” he said, massaging the spot. “It’s nothing compared to what you went through because of my inadequacy.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t. _It wasn_ _’t._ Arst was still a little giddy from the realization.

“Arst,” Prince Lin addressed him seriously. “I know you resent being here, but… if it is not too much to ask, I would like us to have a more cordial relationship. If you think you can let go of your hatred…”

“I don’t hate you, not anymore,” Arst said. Then frowned. “Not for now, at least. I am not sure I can completely trust you yet, and I hope you can understand why. But yes,” he added with a small smile, “I would like that too. We will be stuck together for a long time. This situation will be easier for both of us if we learn to get along.”

“Indeed...”

“So,” Arst changed the subject. “What do I get if I can beat you at this?”

Lin tilted his head in thought. “If you win, you can have the bed tonight,” he eventually proposed.

Arst grinned. “Now I definitely won’t lose!”

Arst did not get the bed that night. Nor many nights after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arst just can't resist a real challenge and gets way too into it despite having other things to worry about XD  
> Well in this case it turned out for the best...
> 
> Are they finally going to get along now?


	9. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin takes Arst out to visit the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the fluff begin~~

The beginning of Efreeta came with a sharp increase in temperature. Located under a milder clime than the surrounding mountains, Xian Yang quickly got hotter than what Arst was comfortable with. The air was also much stuffier, which made it all the more unpleasant in his opinion. Fortunately, this year’s interseasonals blew past their usual time, bestowing a welcome breeze upon the city for a couple of weeks. The river’s surface was glimmering in the midday sun, while the branches of the wisteria trees that adorned the riverbanks were swaying in the wind. A few people were sitting under the trees, enjoying the leisure of a nice summer day.

“This looks like a nice spot for picnics,” Arst commented.

Lin, who was walking a few paces ahead, paused and turned to face him. “It is,” he confirmed. “I used to come here with Nils from time to time when I wanted to get out of the castle. It can get rather crowded, though, depending on the weather.”

Arst could understand why. The trees provided comfortable shade, and the view on the castle from the riverbank was rather stunning. Despite his aversion for the ruling clan, Arst had always found the Long Dau capital quite beautiful. The roads and buildings were well-maintained, and the streets’ grid pattern made them easy to navigate, although the uniformity of the architecture could be confusing if you got lost. Water was an omnipresent element, be it small canals, fountains, or the river itself.

Lin resumed walking, and Arst caught up with him in a few strides to walk beside him. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Not far. See those buildings right ahead?” The end of the wisteria park gave way to a line of teahouses overlooking the river. “When it comes to leisure, this is the finest part of town,” Lin explained. “Rich merchants and courtiers who have their residence in the city have their own gardens to relax in, so they usually stay at home, but the rest of the population come to places like this on their days off. There are also taverns and inns further downstream, closer to the harbor and the commercial district.”

“I know that area. That’s where I often stayed when I was here on official clan business.”

“Then I don’t need to describe the rowdy ambiance of the popular taverns. This place is quieter… Ah, here we are.” Lin stopped in front of a quaint little teahouse. Arst would have expected a more opulent establishment, fitting for a member of the ruling clan, but he knew by now that the prince regularly defied expectations. The owner greeted them with a low bow as soon as he recognized Lin, and quietly ushered them to a private table on the deck, partially hidden from the other tables by an ornamental screen.

“The usual, my lord?”

“Make it double. You are fine with matcha, right?” Lin asked Arst for confirmation.

“Yes.”

Lin looked back at the owner, who bowed and scurried away to prepare their order.

“Discretion,” Lin said. “One of the reasons I come here. I can always trust the staff not to make a fuss, and to make sure I have a good table.”

Arst got up and leaned over the railing to see the view. Directly underneath, the currents flowed strongly. In the middle of the river, a group of teenagers were playing on a small boat. “What’s the other reason?” he asked.

“The food.”

“Oh?” Arst’s interest was piqued. “What are they bringing?”

“Dumplings. But if you want anything else, feel free to order when they come back.”

Arst hummed non-committally. Dumplings were good.

“They have ice cream.”

Arst whipped around. Lin looked very pleased with himself. “You… Just because I told you that story about the icicles…”

Lin raised his eyebrows. “They have chocolate parfait.”

Arst sat down with a grin, pointing an accusatory finger at his husband. “You are a shrewd man, Lin Long Dau.”

The owner chose that moment to reappear, followed by a waitress holding their food.

“He’ll have a chocolate parfait as well,” Lin told him. “With extra chocolate.”

“Certainly.” The owner bowed, and left with the waitress as soon as she finished serving their drinks, promising to come back quickly with the new order.

“You’re spoiling me,” Arst remarked.

“It is the least I can do, as your husband…”

“Be careful,” Arst joked. “Do it too often and I’ll start expecting it.”

Lin inclined his head on the side. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Ah, not exactly. It’s just… still hard for me to know what to expect. A few weeks ago I thought you were going to beat me. And now you’re treating me to ice cream.”

“I promised to treat you well,” Lin murmured.

“And you do! No complaints here. It’s just, there’s a difference between not hurting me and… this. Whatever this is.” Arst spread is hands over the table helplessly.

“You’re the one who asked to get out of the castle for a day.”

“I know, I know.” Arst picked a dumpling and bit into it to distract himself. The paste was soft and sweet, rich but not too filling. He took his time to savor it.

Lin was frowning. “What were you expecting?”

Arst swallowed. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “That’s the thing, I never know what to expect.”

Lin did not answer immediately, instead taking a sip of his tea, his gaze turned to the scenery, unfocused. “How long has it been since you arrived?” he asked. “You should have picked up a few things by now…”

“A little over two months. And I have.” Arst ran a quick inventory of the prince’s quirks he knew. He was weak of arms but quick of wit, preferring the brush over the sword. He played board games of all kinds, but had a particular affinity for shogi and go. He was not picky with food, and handled spice without issue. He was closed off when upset but talkative when engaged, had a hidden competitive streak that rivaled Arst’s, and was—Arst noted as an exquisite parfait overflowing with chocolate sauce was placed in front of him—rather observant, committing all kinds of facts to memory. Arst wondered what kind of observations he had already made about him, aside from his taste in desserts. “I’m not doubting your goodwill,” he resumed between two spoonfuls. “It’s just that this is a bit…”

“A bit?”

“Nice.” Getting out of the stuffy atmosphere of the castle, wandering the streets, sightseeing, being treated to ice cream in a cozy teahouse… “Almost like…” Almost like a date. He chased the thought away.

Lin lowered his eyes with a shy smile. “If you enjoy it, why are you hesitant to accept it?”

Arst considered his response. He could simply not answer, or change the subject, lighten the mood. He knew his answer had the potential to hurt Lin’s feelings. He could simply sidestep the issue, and avoid ruining the moment. But just as Lin had promised to treat him well, Arst had promised to give him a chance. And if he wanted their budding friendship to last, honesty was the best course of action. “I vaguely wonder where is the catch.”

Lin’s smile vanished. “Do you still not trust me?” he asked in a low voice. “It’s been months already—”

“A couple of months are nothing next to a decade where the mere mention of your surname was enough to set my family on edge,” Arst interjected. “It’s not that I expect _you_ to turn on me out of the blue,” he continued more gently. “But, you know, just a few weeks ago I was sleeping on my stomach because of some arbitrary rule about besting you in combat. This marriage was supposed to be a punishment in the mind of the one who plotted it. I’m not used to nice things lasting when it comes to our clans, so I don’t know if there will ever be a time when I can fully feel at ease.”

Lin closed his mouth and looked down with a pained expression. Arst waited for him to gather his thoughts while finishing his parfait.

“I understand,” Lin said at last. “Then I will just have to try harder to earn your trust, won’t I?” His eyes shone with a new determination.

“If trying harder involves more chocolate,” Arst said to lighten the mood, “then it might happen sooner than later.”

Lin’s lips twitched in amusement. “I will keep that in mind.”

After leaving the teahouse, they resumed their walk along the river, with Lin pointing to this or that interesting sight while they chatted about random light-hearted topics. Time tended to fly by when they were together, and it was soon time to go back. They opted to take a ferry back to the castle, as they had walked quite a distance. Lin spent the boat ride in silent contemplation. Arst, for his part, was content to gaze at the scenery, amusing himself by identifying the landmarks they had visited earlier. They landed on a dock near one of the bridges that connected the castle to the city. The guards posted at the entrance of the bridge recognized Lin and let them through with a deep bow. They passed another set of guards at the mid-way point, and another at the gate to the castle complex.

“You’re not skimping on security,” Arst remarked. If he hadn’t been accompanying their future leader, the process would have likely been much less smooth.

“You never know who might be trying to sneak in,” Lin explained. “Or out,” he added, sending Arst a look that meant _‘don’t even think of attempting it.’_ “The gate watch also keeps a ledger of comings-and-goings.”

“That’s for burglars and assassins. What about invaders?”

“They would need to get past the city walls, first. You’ve gone through the city gates before: they are heavily guarded and easily closed. There are barracks on either side, so both banks can be defended.”

“And the river?” Arst asked. He had always wondered how it factored in the city’s defenses, as it left a large gap between the city walls. On the other hand, it could provide a quick mean of escape should the defenses fall.

“Turrets at each entry point, and of course the castle’s, should enemy boats manage to approach it. In addition, we have our own military ships ready to be deployed to defend from water approaches. No tribe possesses a fleet that can rival ours, so the endeavor would prove fruitless anyway.”

“I see.”

“How would you do it, if you were an invader?” Lin inquired.

Arst thought for a moment. “A siege… No, that would require too much manpower, along with the means of preventing supplies from being brought in through the river.” It was hard. With the city’s uniform layout, no side offered more weakness to exploit than the other. The Long Dau clan was also not lacking in men to defend it. “Take the fighting outside,” he ventured. “Lure the defending army to battlefields of my choice, and reduce its numbers over time. Of course, that relies on the acting leader rising to the bait, but no chief would let enemy forces idle right at his doors for long.”

Lin did not comment, but he seemed satisfied with Arst’s answer, because he nodded approvingly.

When they reached the prince’s residence, they were greeted by Nils, who had been waiting for them. “I wasn’t sure when you would be back,” he told Lin, “so I told the kitchens to hold. I will head over there immediately.”

“I should go too…” Arst said.

“Stay,” Lin said. “I have something to discuss with you.”

Arst raised a questioning eyebrow, but Lin simply went inside. When Arst followed him, Lin took out a small pouch from one of his cabinet’s drawers. He held onto it for a moment, considering his decision, then handed it to Arst. Inside, there was a token carved with the Long Dau emblem.

“It’s a token of passage reserved for concubines,” Lin explained. “It serves as proof that you have permission from your husband to leave and re-enter the castle grounds. It’s supposed to be in my possession when it is not in use.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” Arst asked, surprised.

Lin nodded slowly. “On the way back, I was thinking about what you said earlier, about trust. I realized that if I wanted you to trust me, I should be the one trusting you first.”

“So this is a token of your trust. Literally.”

Lin gave a small smile, then grew serious again. “I need to stress this again: you’re not supposed to hold onto it permanently. So use it with moderation, and never let on that you have it. I would be the one in trouble if it came to Father’s attention.”

Arst thumbed the object’s smooth surface delicately. “I will be careful,” he promised.

“Show it to the guards and they will let you out, no questions asked. Ah, it only works for the castle. The city gates require another one, distributed by the acting chief only.”

“Restricted freedom, got it.” Arst’s mind was spinning with the possible uses he could make of it. Aside from enabling him to escape the castle for a few hours when he needed a breather, he could arrange for Karla to come down to the capital one day. They would be able to meet in town at any time! He beamed at his husband. “Thank you, Lin.” Realizing he had slipped, he corrected his form of address. “I’m sorry. Prince Lin.”

“Lin is fine.”

Arst nodded, his smile larger than before. “Lin, then. Thank you, Lin.”

Lin returned his smile briefly, but suddenly turned around to face away from him.

“Nils will be back soon. You should clear the table.”


	10. Minah's Lessons (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst helps Minah out at the apothecary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few ones will be shorter. They'll be small snippets into Arst's daily life at the castle before the next big arc.
> 
> Our favorite grandma figure makes a comeback this chapter :3

Minah’s apothecary was what one could call “organized chaos.” Herbs, potions and lotions—and potted plants—found their home in random corners, with no classification system nor any logic.

“Be careful with that one! It leaves a nasty stain when spilt!”

Arst jerked his hand away from the pot he was about to grab and looked over to the old woman, who was perusing her ledger on the counter, her glasses at the tip of her nose.

“What should I do with it?” he asked.

“Take it gently and set it over here,” she answered while sweeping clutter to the side to make space for the large pot.

Arst did as instructed and walked to the counter, setting the pot on its plane surface carefully. “What is it for?” he asked, curious. The label on the pot was faded and illegible.

Minah wrinkled her nose. “Cough syrup.” That was it? Arst was expecting something more unusual. It must have showed on his face, because Minah added with a laugh, “It was a sort of experiment with texture, but the taste was so foul people categorically refused to take it. It’s been sitting on that shelf for at least a decade.” She leaned in Arst’s direction with a conspiring look and whispered, “Prince Lin burst into tears the one time he was made to drink it. That’s when I decided to stop prescribing it to children.”

Arst bit his lip to hide his smile. “What should we do with it?”

“Dispose of it, pot included. I wouldn’t dare put anything else in it even if we clean it thoroughly.”

Arst nodded. He looked around for the duster, which had somehow managed to get displaced for the sixth time, and found it in the largest aloe pot. Shaking his head, he retrieved it slowly so as not to hurt the plant, and started cleaning the spot that the pot had been occupying.

“You have my gratitude,” Minah said. “I’ve been meaning to clean and organize this place for literal ages, but never found the right moment.”

“I’m happy to help,” Arst told her. “In truth, I have a favor to ask.” He had come in with that intention, only to find her perched on the stepladder with too many boxes in her arms and her balance unsteady. He had rushed to her side to help her take them down without falling, and ended up being roped into emptying and cleaning the shelves for her while she worked on devising a sorting system from the safety of her counter stool. It was fortunate that Lin happened to be busy that day, because judging by the number of items to sort, Arst was not going home any time soon.

“Sure, sure, ask away,” Minah replied absentmindedly, scribbling notes in her notebook.

Arst turned to face her. “I was wondering if you could teach me.”

She stopped writing and raised her head, her sharp eyes narrowed on him. “Teach you? Ah, healing artes?” Arst nodded. “Do you want to be a healer?”

Arst shook his head. “Nothing so ambitious. I just thought I should try to get better at it. You know, after what happened…”

Minah smiled in understanding. “Well, I’ve never had any students before, so this should be a fun experience. Come by when you have time. I’m stuck in this dusty room all day anyway. We can start once we’ve finished cleaning the place.”

Arst nodded his thanks and went back to dusting.

“In Rashugal,” Minah mentioned out of the blue, “they built an actual medical school. I’ve heard that healers from all over the country gathered to the capital to share their knowledge.”

“That would be unthinkable here.”

She hummed in agreement. “Medical practice is usually passed from parent to child, and trade secrets closely guarded.”

“Was this the case for you?” Arst asked.

“Uh-uh. My father was a court healer. He always lamented that my mother could only give him a daughter. That did not stop him from teaching me, but I had no chance of succeeding him. They offered me a place as a midwife, but… _Babies._ ” She made a face. “So instead, I decided to help my uncle run the castle’s apothecary, and took over when he passed. It’s a bit lonely here, sometimes, but no one bothers me. I’m happy when the young ones pay me a visit, though,” she added with a sly smile. “Prince Lin used to come at least once a week, but he’s been pretty busy lately.” She sent Arst a knowing look.

“How did you two meet?”

Minah laughed gleefully. “Oh, he was about 9 or 10? He had a phase where he was really into mystery novels. One day, he walked in all serious-looking to ask me about poisons. He was this tall.” She held a hand above the ground to show him. From her example, Arst estimated that the prince must have been a little short for his age at the time. “Adorable.” She shook her head fondly. “He came back several times for more questions. I healed his bruises from sparring, and he helped me sample new tea brews. He was always such a clever child…”

Arst could picture it: a small Lin, his brows knitted in concentration like they often were when he was thinking, seeking out an expert to answer his highly specific questions. There were some people who were difficult to imagine as a child (Minah, for example), but Arst discovered with a certain delight that Lin was not amongst them.

“How are the two of you getting on?” Minah inquired.

“Fine,” Arst answered. He hesitated a moment, but felt like he could confide in her. “It was hard, at first. I had a lot of preconceived notions about him, and he actively avoided communication. But we have cleared our misunderstandings.”

“Good, good.” She looked back to her ledger and picked up her pen again, adding casually, “If you need more oil, just let me know.”

“Oil?” Arst repeated, confused. Then it dawned on him. “Oh. No, that’s not… We’re not…” To his embarrassment, Arst felt his cheeks heat up. He usually did not get flustered so easily. Perhaps the candid way in which she had brought it up took him by surprise.

“Not yet? Figures…” she muttered. “Well, I suppose that with you two being men, you’re not under pressure to produce a son as soon as possible.”

Arst cringed. That was something he was glad to avoid, at least.

“Lady Nui did not have that leisure,” Minah continued sadly. “Our young master took many years to come to this world.”

Arst had heard something about that. How the Long Dau clan had been heir-less for a long time despite the lady’s youth. In contrast, Arst and Karla had been conceived shortly after their parents’ marriage, despite their mother being a good decade older than the lady of the Long Dau. Arst’s father once told him that the prince’s birth had been the cause of much celebration in the whole clan.

“Just between us,” Minah commented, “people are quick to blame the wives for the lack of heirs, but when you look at Lord Lars’ concubines, they are all still childless. If you ask me, I’d look at the common denominator there.”

Arst sucked in a breath, impressed and a little apprehensive that she would dare voice such a thought aloud. “Are you sure it’s safe to say that?”

“Did you hear anything?” she asked with an innocent face. “It must have been the wind.” She suddenly clapped her hands, startling Arst. “Anyway!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find supplies.”

Arst lowered his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned around and resumed dusting the shelf, trying to put any thought of oils and their uses out of his mind.


	11. Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst has a suggestion or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I'll try to post the next one this week-end to compensate :)

If there was one thing Arst missed about his hometown, it was the cool mountain mornings. Even if he made sure to wake up early to sneak in a few hours of solo practice before the heat became unbearable, the bright Efreeta sun bore down on his back, unforgiving. Arst had long abandoned his shirt somewhere on the ground—since then picked up and carefully folded by his husband—but this did little to prevent the heat from making intense exercise a miserable ordeal. Yet, this did not deter Arst, who considered it good practice in case of a potential summer campaign. Lin, for his part, was content to sit in the shade of the main house’s porch with his sketchbook while his concubine exerted himself under the sun.

Arst was practicing a sequence of artes, trying to find a good rhythm for a combo. He tried out different combinations before he found a satisfying one. He then repeated it over and over, to get his body used to the movements. If they were on an actual practice field, he would infuse his moves with mana to practice the artes in full, but since he was in the courtyard of his home, he had to restrain himself to avoid accidentally destroying part of the architecture. Practical use could wait.

When the heat started to really get to him, he interrupted his exercise and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his neck. The few strands of hair that escaped his hastily-made ponytail were drenched. Before starting practice, Arst had filled in a bucket of water, which he now used to eagerly splash his face. He let the droplets slide down on his chest, not bothering to wipe them. They would dry soon on their own anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Lin was observing him.

Lin’s eyes shifted when he turned toward him, as if he was trying to pretend he wasn’t looking. His face was a little flushed; Arst supposed even the shade did not completely shield him from the heat. He strode in his direction and sat down next to him, still sponging some sweat and water from his face. Lin reached out behind him and slid a platter toward him.

“Tea?” Arst inquired, making a face. He wasn’t really up for hot beverages right now.

“It’s iced,” Lin assured. “I thought you’d need it after all that moving around in the heat.”

Arst smiled. “Thank you.” He took a sip and closed his eyes in satisfaction as the cool liquid quenched his thirst. Lin had chosen a blend of barley tea that was appropriately refreshing after a round of exercise. “You’re spoiling me again,” he muttered, not really intending for Lin to hear it, but not caring if he did.

He heard Lin shift besides him and opened an eye to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the grass below, and he was holding his sketchbook close against his chest.

“What are you drawing?” Arst asked, his curiosity piqued.

Lin’s grip tightened on the pad protectively, before relaxing it and slowly lowering it down on his lap. He still wasn’t looking at Arst.

That was… Well. Arst felt a blush spreading on his cheeks. He was not usually fazed by such things, but for some reason Lin’s drawing caught him off-guard. It seemed that Arst had unwittingly served as Lin’s model while he was training. The image of him on paper was in the middle of an arte, his muscles taunt and brows knitted in concentration. The depiction was extremely flattering. Lin had outlined his muscles carefully, and the pose left nothing of his exposed chest to the imagination. Arst’s eyes stopped on the sword for a moment, admiring the way Lin had detailed the sun reflecting on the blade.

“You’re really talented,” he remarked.

“Hmm. You’re a good model for practicing anatomy,” Lin said, his expression carefully neutral.

The words were out of Arst’s mouth before he could consider them. “Oh? Should I model nude for you from time to time, then?”

Lin fixed him with a scathing look even as his cheeks reddened. “Not funny.”

Arst threw his head back and laughed. “I wouldn’t mind, honestly.” Arst had never shied away from nudity, at home. Public baths were mixed, and no one batted an eye. Besides, he and Lin were, for all intents and purposes, married. They slept in the same room, even though not in the same bed. Lin was the one who insisted on changing behind a screen and taking turns in the bathhouse. Arst opened his mouth, hesitating a moment. There was something he had always been curious about.

“While we’re on the topic… Can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?” Lin asked warily.

Arst faced him, his expression turning serious. “Why haven’t you bedded me?”

Lin’s face had never been so colorful. “That’s… I… We’re not… I mean…” Gone was his usual eloquence. His words seemed to be caught somewhere in his throat and only came out in strangled sounds.

“We’re married,” Arst pointed out. “I was steeling myself for it our whole wedding night.”

Lin leveled him with a serious look. “But did you want it?”

Arst thought about it. No, he had not. He remembered how relieved he felt when Lin laid out the futon, how glad he was that, despite his cold treatment, that hadn’t been something he expected of him. “Not really,” he answered truthfully. “That doesn’t mean I would mind _now_ , though.”

When Lin did not respond, he went on. “Don’t you get those urges, sometimes?” Cohabiting in the same room did not leave them with much privacy, and there definitely were mornings where Arst had to rush to the bathhouse where he was sure he could take care of the problem undisturbed. “I mean,” he continued, “you and I are married, right? We’re stuck together for the foreseeable future. We might as well use the situation for our mutual benefit.”

Lin’s blush returned full-force at the implication. He cleared his throat, trying to school his expression back to neutral. “I’ll… think about it.”

That wasn’t much of an answer, but truth to be told, Arst himself did not know what answer he’d been seeking. It was an impulsive proposition, one he would normally not have made without careful consideration. Would anything change between them, he wondered, if Lin were to accept? He was rather content with their relationship as it was now; was it wise to risk making things awkward for fleeting moments of pleasure? Or, on the other hand, would a new closeness emerge between them? Was that even possible, in their circumstances?

“Don’t read too much into it,” he told Lin. “I just thought it would be practical.”

“Practical…” Lin echoed, giving him a strange look.

Arst shrugged it off. Perhaps he was the one reading too much into it.


	12. Minah's Lessons (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grandma is back for healing artes lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make up more worldbuilding about channeling x)

When Arst stepped into the apothecary, the building smelled strongly of peppermint. He quickly localized the source: the counter was littered in plants, whose leaves Minah was in the process of crushing. She lifted her head when she heard him enter, and her face split in a joyful smile. “Arst! You came!”

“Good morning. You wanted to see me?” Earlier, Arst had received a message to come to the apothecary as soon as he was free. After a brief discussion with Lin, they had decided to postpone their plans of the day so that Arst could go and see what she wanted.

“Yes, yes!” she replied excitedly. “Today is a perfect day to start your lessons.”

Arst blinked. “Now?”

Minah gave him a look. “Of course, now. You’re here, aren’t you?”

That was a little unexpected, but, well, he had just cleared his schedule after all. Minah pushed the peppermint aside and dragged out a stool from under the counter. She patted it, indicating to Arst that he should sit down.

“So,” she began, “your attempt to heal yourself was not bad, but you could not go all the way through. Before we start, I would like to watch you make another attempt, so we can analyze the process step by step.”

Arst nodded. That made sense.

“I’m glad you agree!” Without further ado, she reached for the hem of her dress and pulled, exposing her leg up to her thigh.

“Wait—”

She gave him an amused look. “Thought I was going to strip? There isn’t much to see, I’m afraid. Now, look here.” She brought his attention to a large, red bruise on her thigh. It looked fresh and painful.

“What happened?” Arst asked, concerned.

“Bumped into a table corner while cleaning my kitchen,” she chirped. “By Undine, this is most opportune. We can get you to practice on a live example!”

Arst was not sure whether to be put off or impressed, but then he thought he shouldn’t be surprised. This was exactly in line with what he knew about the old woman. “What should I do?”

“Just try to heal it. Don’t be afraid to get close. Take your time.”

Hesitantly, Arst hovered a hand above the bruise. He took a deep breath and focused his mana, willing the mark to go away as he murmured the incantation for basic healing spells. Greenish-white light surged under his hand, and started to sink into Minah’s skin. Over time, the color of the bruise started changing, taking a blueish tint. The spell ended then, to Arst’s disappointment. When he removed his hand, Minah bent down to examine her wound closely.

“Hmm, there is visible progress. Good, good.”

“It’s not enough, though,” Arst said. He had a vague feeling that he did better when he tried to heal himself, but he didn’t remember clearly.

“It’s not bad for a first try,” she tampered. “What did you wish?”

“Wish?” Arst repeated, confused.

“Your wish to the spirits, when you cast the spell.” Seeing Arst’s dumbfounded look, she straightened up and adjusted her glasses. “How do you normally cast spells?”

Arst thought for a moment. “Well… I call upon mana from my mana lobe, then speak out the incantation.”

Minah shook a finger. “You are forgetting a step. What do you think, what to you visualize, when you pour out your mana? For example, if you want to summon a flame, how do you do it?”

“I… just make it appear. Like this.” He waved his hand toward a candle and lit it.

Minah groaned and hid her face into her hands. “You’re one of _those_ , aren’t you? You rely entirely on instinct to get what you want, and put little thought into the process itself.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Arst asked, apprehensive. Truthfully, he had never really thought about the theory of channeling. He usually got the result he wanted without too much thinking, and that suited him just fine.

“It is a talent in itself,” Minah said. “It just makes it hard to teach the theory. But I will try.” She cleared her throat. “When most people cast spells,” she explained, “they have to picture the result they want to achieve, and usually the process as well. Now, the more you cast a specific spell, the more you do it quickly and unconsciously. Much like when you learn a new sword form, you have to think about the movements at first, until it becomes ingrained in your body. A bit like muscle memory, if you will. In a way, you are already at that stage where you do it unconsciously. That’s instinct. It’s efficient, but constantly skipping a step can hinder accuracy and the intended effect. Let me show you an example…”

She got up and fetched the candle that Arst had lit. Coming back to the counter, she pushed her mess further away to set it before them, then blew it.

“Even if you don’t think it consciously, you must be putting intent into your mana. Do you know what?”

Arst shrugged. “I just want a flame.”

“Then give me a flame.”

Arst waved toward the candle again, which lit up in an instant. Minah nodded approvingly, then blew on the candle again.

“Now, give me a blue flame.”

Arst frowned, and did as instructed. The candle lit again. Orange. “Ah!” He put it out, and tried again. Orange. Orange. Orange. “Why isn’t it working?”

Instead of answering, Minah snapped her fingers, and the candle lit with a beautiful blue flame.

“…How?”

She smiled, then explained. “The spirits respond to the instruction we mix with our mana. You want a flame, they make a flame appear. But if you do not take the time to picture the flame you want, they just hear “flame” and give you just that, a regular old flame. Even though you wanted a blue flame, you unconsciously focused on the flame part, because that’s what’s necessary to light a candle. In my case, I took a second to visualize it before casting, to imagine its color, the way it would appear on the wick. The spirits received all that information, and gave me exactly what I wanted.”

“Ah, so it’s like… The difference between just telling me to make mabo curry, and giving me a list of the required ingredients and instructions about how spicy it should be?”

Minah chuckled. “Strange comparison, but yes, basically.”

Arst had never thought of it that way, but it was an interesting lesson.

“It’s not really important for mundane tasks such as lighting candles or warming a bath,” Minah continued. “And martial artes are different still—that’s one case where instinct is important. But healing spells are the trickiest bunch, and definitely require a more conscious process.”

“When I tried to heal you earlier, I just wished the bruise away,” Arst explained. “I didn’t really think about it.”

“See, that’s too vague. You can get results, but to heal the whole thing, you really have to think about the injury, what caused it, how it heals naturally… Healing artes don’t simply magic the wound away, they merely speed up the natural process.”

“Then what should I do?”

“I think you first need to practice with conscious casting,” Minah said. She opened a drawer and took out a bundle of new candles. “Homework,” she said, throwing the bundle in his direction. He caught it with one hand. “Try conjuring flames of different colors. Don’t rush it, think of your colors, picture the way a candle is lit. Then come back, and I’ll teach you how to heal bruises in depth.” She patted her thigh. “It’ll still be there for a few days.”

Arst felt a little guilty that she would have to sport it until he was ready, and offered to just let her heal it and inflict one on himself when the time came, but she dismissed him. “Don’t go hurting yourself deliberately, please. This one’s an accident we can just exploit.”

Arst thanked her for the lesson, and went home with a fresh batch of candles under the arm and many thoughts swirling in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that unused data shows that Gaius was supposed to get Cure and Resurrection?  
> This AU is a way to make that happen 8)


	13. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected news bring back unpleasant memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get back into the overarching plot a little bit. Just a little :p

Arst did not particularly care much about his birthday. His family always celebrated it, of course, but it was merely a day when the household had a slightly fancier dinner. For that reason, he didn’t really mention it to Lin, and simply sent a congratulatory letter to Karla by express sylphjay. More importantly, though, his birthday spelled the arrival of the hottest time of the year, a fact that did not always sit well with him. As Efreeta reached his peak, training was moved to the early morning, before sunrise. It had also gone down to every three days rather than the usual every other day, with the expectation that the disciples practiced harder at home. The young men convened in the training hall, grumbling about interrupted sleep and the lack of proper ventilation. One such disciple did not seem affected, however, as his enthusiasm was enough to keep him wide awake.

“Guys. _Guys._ Did you hear?” Dan asked excitedly.

Despite their improving relationship, Arst and Lin still kept separate during sword practice. Arst joined Dan, Soren and Liang’s group as usual, while Lin stood on the side, close to his cousins but not exactly within their circle. Ever since the day Lin protected him, Instructor Li was careful not to make them practice against each other as much as he could avoid. And in cases where it was inevitable, they had come to the understanding that Arst would continue to fake defeat, so as not to rock the boat.

“Hear what?” Soren grumbled. “The sound of my snores?”

Dan elbowed him. “Wake up already. No, I’m talking about the _competition._ ”

That got everyone’s attention.

“The coliseum competition in Xian Du? Is it time to name candidates already?”

Arst’s blood ran cold. With all the fuss about the marriage, he had completely forgotten it was coming up soon. With the way his heart started pounding in his chest, he almost missed Dan’s response.

“Nope, on the contrary. It’s been _postponed!”_

Liang and Soren gasped.

“Postponed?” Arst asked. “Why?”

Dan stepped closer and started talking in excited whispers. “I heard it from my dad, the news just came before I left. It’s complete chaos at home, dad has a lot of business with Xian Du, and now everything’s uncertain.”

“What happened?”

“There was a coup in the Kitarl clan!”

The Kitarl clan were another one of the Brilliant Seven, the major clans that ruled over Auj Oule. Located several kilometers downstream from Xian Yang, Xian Du was their clan’s capital, and also the place where the once-in-a-decade competition took place. For the occasion, the clans laid down arms and traveled to the city of warriors, eager to show their champions’ might. It was a sacred ritual supposed to promote peace, and not the kind of event that could simply be postponed.

“Remember how the Kitarl chief was murdered all those years ago?”

Arst vaguely remembered his father and Kohei talking about it, but he had been young then, and didn’t remember all the details. As he recalled, the chief was found dead one day, killed by a youth of the clan. The young man had disappeared, and despite many attempts to track him, he had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth.

“His two sons were twins, and he hadn’t yet designated one as his successor when it happened. One of them eventually succeeded him, but I guess the other always felt wronged, because he’s now turned on his brother! It’s a huge mess!”

“Ooh, juicy!” Liang exclaimed. “I bet the clan elders are _not_ happy.”

“Hah, tell me about it. Dad is afraid it’ll turn into a long conflict, which won’t be good for his business. Anyway, since Xian Du’s in upheaval now, there’s no way the competition can be held this year. So it’s been moved to next year.”

Dan, Soren and Liang continued chatting excitedly about the event, making predictions about what was going to happen to the Kitarl clan. Other disciples, curious about their enthusiasm, joined them to ask what was going on, and soon the whole hall was talking about it. Arst, for his part, stayed out of the conversations. He had mostly been able to put it out of his mind over time, but the mention of the tournament brought back bitter feelings to the surface. He felt eyes on him, and when he turned, his eyes caught Lin’s across the room. Lin tilted his head in question, but Arst merely shook his head. Eventually, Instructor Li came in, and the gossiping ceased for a moment.

A flame. No, no, not just a flame. Picture the color first. Yellow, like the blazing sun outside. Bright, powerful yellow, infused in fire. A surge of mana. Yellow… wasn’t that the color of the Kitarl clan?

Arst opened his eyes and cursed. His candle was lit with a soft, light orange glow. He blew it out loudly in frustration.

“Still at it?” Lin asked from behind his desk.

“This is harder than it looks,” Arst said. He’d gotten blue and green down over the past few days. Yellow shouldn’t have been difficult, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate today.

Lin fixed the candle with a look, and the next moment the wick erupted in sparkles that eventually receded into a light purple flame.

“Show-off,” Arst grumbled. Lin smirked, pleased with himself.

Arst uncrossed his legs and let himself fall backward, lying flat on the floor. He sighed. “It’s too hot to think about flames all day.”

“Think about ice, then.”

Arst immediately sat up. “That’s an idea!” He thought about it for a minute, the mechanisms of conjuring ice. Would he need to draw from the humidity in the air? Then… cool it, picture it solidifying, associate the whole sequence to his mana… With a groan, he lay back down on the floor. “Too much trouble.”

He closed his eyes, emptying his thoughts. Thinking was too exhausting. A nice breeze picked up and ruffled his hair, dancing over his skin. It felt nice, calming. Maybe he could take a nap, like that, on the floor, surrounded by the cool wind and the relaxing noise of Lin’s brush caressing paper. No, wait, the room was completely silent now. Arst opened his eyes and found Lin staring at him, his brows furrowed with the slightest hint of concentration.

“The wind, that’s you?”

Lin’s face relaxed and he inclined his head. The breeze subsided.

“Show-off!” Arst whined. Then smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

Arst sat up again. “Can we go get ice cream today? You don’t have anything scheduled, right?”

Lin considered it. “We can go after lunch,” he proposed. “If you tell me what’s bothering you.”

Arst waved toward the mess of wax next to him.

“I know that’s not the reason,” Lin said. “You’ve been sullen since practice. Is it about the tournament?”

Arst let out a sigh. Trust Lin to guess right on first try. “Not really, it’s just… I don’t know…”

“Were you planning to participate?”

Was he? “I don’t know… I was thinking about it a few months ago, but I couldn’t reach a decision. And then the marriage happened and I had other things to worry about.”

“I’m surprised you were even hesitating,” Lin remarked. “This sounds like the kind of thing you would enthusiastically jump into.”

“Usually, I would,” Arst admitted. “But after last time…”

“Last time?”

“The previous competition, ten years ago.” Seeing Lin’s blank face, he added, “I was there.”

“You were there… as a contestant?!” Lin’s eyes were wide with surprise. “But that was ten years ago… You were still so young…”

Arst shrugged. “That wasn’t going to stop me. At the time, I only had one thought: to bring glory to my clan.”

“How far did you go?” Lin asked, curious.

Arst remembered it all: the arena, the crowd, the river below. The sweat, the blood, the cheers, the sound of steel. “To the top.”

Lin gave him a dubious look. No, not dubious, pensive, like he was trying to recall something. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I had no interest in such things back then; I don’t remember.”

Arst laughed. It sounded hollow, even to his ears. “You wouldn’t have known, even if you could remember.” He took a deep breath. “Officially, the winner of that year is a man named Rasan. He was from a side branch of the royal family.”

Lin picked up the implication immediately. “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially… I had my sword under his throat while his lay on the ground.” Bitterness and frustration seeped through Arst’s words. “But who would accept that such a noble warrior was bested by a kid from a small remote clan? They made up some excuse on the spot to disqualify me. And what could I do? Any protest fell on deaf ears, and no one was willing to vouch for me.”

“That must have been frustrating…”

“Frustrating doesn’t even begin to encompass it,” Arst spat. “But it’s always like that, isn’t it? Influential clans can do as they please and trample all over the weaker ones without anyone batting an eye. This marriage’s a good example. Your father decided to impose that burden on my clan, and what alternative did we have?” Lin’s face fell, and Arst immediately regretted his words. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have much of a choice either.” He passed a hand over his eyes and exhaled. “I apologize. This is just bringing back bad memories. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Lin shook his head. “I understand,” he said. “I can’t even begin to imagine, but… I know how much you loathe it.”

Arst felt bad for getting so worked up over something Lin had no influence on. Lin had done nothing wrong, he reminded himself. And even if he benefited from the current system, he wasn’t exactly free to do as he pleased either. Arst wondered how things would change, once Lin succeeded his father. What kind of leader he’d be. He wondered, too, if he could be a positive influence on him—if he could convince him to care about the plight of the smaller clans.

“If you’d had a choice…” Lin began. He looked down, avoiding Arst’s gaze. “Nevermind.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, just wishful thinking…”

Arst did not inquire further. Instead he got up and stretched. “Well, it’s no use moping about it. I still have one year to decide now, anyway.”

Lin nodded, still not looking up. Arst looked around, racking his brains for a way to cheer him up. He smiled when his eyes landed on the discarded pile of candles. He retrieved two of them and plopped down next to Lin’s desk, brandishing one at him. Lin eyed it warily.

“Show me how to do the sparkles!”


	14. Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arst has a visitor.

The first time Arst left the castle on his own, he was a little nervous about how the guards would react. But when presented with the token, they merely looked him up and down, eyebrows raised.

“Running errands for Prince Lin, heh?” they said. And just like that, he was out.

Now, they did not even comment on it anymore. They merely nodded as soon as their eyes fell on the token dangling from his belt, letting him through toward the bustling city.

The token was not just good for entry, Arst soon discovered. It was a formal marker of his status within the ruling household, which ensured deference from anyone lower than him on the hierarchical ladder. He could show it at any establishment he visited, and they would send the bill to the castle. Not that Arst ever resorted to that—if anything, he preferred to tuck the token under his clothes and blend in with the crowd. Here on the marketplace, where no one knew his face, he felt freer than ever.

His feet took him past the commercial streets toward the riverbank, where the largest inns and taverns were located. It did not take him long to locate the one he was looking for: the Golden Peacock was as renowned for its fowl cuisine as for the grotesque golden statue of a peacock that adorned its roof. The building’s layout was rather simple: a large dining area on the ground floor, with a terrasse overlooking the river, and stairs at the back leading to the rooms on the upper floors. That part was restricted to overnight customers and their guests, so Arst approached the main counter to speak with a receptionist.

“I am here to see Karla Outway.”

The receptionist smiled. “Are you Arst? Miss Outway notified me of your visit. You can find her in the goose room.”

Arst said his thanks and headed to the stairs. The inn’s rooms were all named after some kind of bird, with each door decorated with a painting of its namesake. The goose room was the second room to the right on the second floor. Arst knocked once before opening the door.

He barely took a step inside that he was tackled by the room’s occupant. The impact made him step back, and he bumped onto the door frame.

“Easy!”

_“Arst!”_ His sister’s voice was muffled, as she had her face pressed to his chest. He inclined his head and rested it on top of hers. She smelled of travel and mountain and home.

He placed a hand on her back for balance and stepped forward, pushing her gently along with him. “Hold on, let me close the door.” She relaxed her grip just enough for him to reach back with his free hand and shut the door behind him. He then brought his hand to her face and tilted it upward, so he could see her clearly. His breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears and her face split into a wide smile. She mimicked his gesture and brought a hand to his cheek, patting it softly.

“Arst, it’s you. It’s really you.”

“Who were you expecting?” he teased gently.

She let out a soft laugh. “You, silly. It is so good to see your face.”

His own cheeks were aching from smiling so wide. “Yours too! I’ve missed you so much.”

Karla burrowed her face in his chest once more, and he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her closely. They spent several minutes like that, in each other’s arms, breathing in each other’s familiar smell and losing themselves to memories of home. When they finally disentangled, Karla invited him to sit on the bed with her.

“How have you been?” she asked. She looked him up and down with a critical eye. “You look well-fed,” she concluded.

Arst chuckled. “Oh, I have no complaint about the food. Every day is like a feast, compared to what we are used to.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her expression suddenly fell. “This Efreeta was not kind on us. The village has lost part of its harvest in a fire.”

“Is everyone all right?” Arst asked, concerned.

“No one was injured, but we will have to ration our food again come Lasylph.”

The harsh climes near Darhan were not ideal for growing crops, so it was not unusual for the village to go through periods of famine during bad years. For that reason, the Outway clan had edicted strict laws against wasting food, as well as established a rationing system that would ensure that each household would receive their share. The chief’s household was thus not better off than the poorest villager in times of emergency, something that Arst doubted would be the case here in Xian Yang, where the wants of the mighty took precedence over the needs of the vulnerable. But perhaps this time, such a system could be put to good use…

“I’ll ask my husband to send provisions your way.”

“Would he really do that?” Karla asked, dubious.

“We can try. I do not know how much authority he has on such things, but it would be worth a try.”

“I won’t keep my hopes up,” Karla said bluntly. “But I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Arst took her hand. “The Outway clan is still my clan, no matter who I am married to. If there is anything I can do, of course I will do it.”

Karla smiled sadly. “If only you were still with us… I guess I should be glad we were even allowed to meet like this…” She looked down for a moment, considering her next words, then looked up again with determination in her eyes. “Arst, I need to know. Your letters have always been positive, and they were a delight to read, but I know you were holding back. Tell me the truth: how do you truly feel? Have you been treated unfairly?”

Arst was about to assure her that everything was fine when the memory of the training incident flashed through his mind.

“Arst?” Karla sounded alarmed, and Arst realized a little too late that he must have showed something in his expression. “What happened?” she asked fearfully.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re lying. I knew it,” she added bitterly. “Nothing good could ever come out of a marriage with Lars Long Dau’s son.”

“It’s not his fault!” Arst protested. “It’s true,” he insisted when she looked like she did not believe him. “You’re right, something did happen, but Lin had nothing to do with it. In fact, he made sure it wouldn’t happen again.”

“What happened?” she asked again.

Arst shook his head. “Nothing important.”

_“Arst!”_

“I don’t want to talk about it. Look, I know you’re worried, but I’m fine. Really. It’s in the past.”

Karla looked at him sadly. “I wish you didn’t feel the need to spare me from the truth.”

Arst pulled her toward his chest, holding her gently. “I’d rather not waste our limited time together dwelling on bad memories.”

“…Okay. But please promise me that if gets unbearable, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

She punched his side lightly. “We both know you’re not going to keep that promise.” She took a deep breath and got up. “All right, then. Let’s have fun, if that’s what you want.”

Arst grabbed her outstretched hand with a smile. “Let’s go out. I know a few places.”

Arst took her to his favorite spots in the city, starting with the little teahouse he often visited with Lin. Over ice cream, they traded stories and reminiscences until they no longer felt like they had just spent months apart. If Arst tried hard enough, he could imagine they were merely on a trip, enjoying some sightseeing before they would both go home together, eager to tell their father all about it.

When they went down to the marketplace, Arst used his allowance to buy souvenirs for her and the whole household—and more books than Karla knew what to do with. “How am I supposed to bring all this back home?” she complained.

“We’ll hire a courier,” Arst promised, adding another book to the pile. He’d recently finished that one, and was positive she would enjoy it. “You should see the castle library. You could spend whole years reading everything there.” He added a few learning materials for good measure. The clan’s children would definitely need it.

Karla let him arrange transport, watching him with a sad smile on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Arst asked when he noticed.

“Nothing.”

When he raised his eyebrows in question, she explained: “You seem used to life here. It’s a good thing, but… it reminded me that this is your home, now.”

“Ah. Yeah…” Arst had grown somewhat fond of the Long Dau capital with each new outing, but this, too, was a reminder of his circumstances. Karla’s evocation of home filled him with longing. He reached out to squeeze her hand, offering a faint smile.

In the evening, they took a stroll through the park, hand in hand, like they were ten again and their only concern was what was how long they could play before their father sent Kohei looking for them. The time they had left was limited, but they tried not to think of that, wanting to prolong the moment, if only for a minute longer.

Unfortunately, someone appeared to spoil the good mood.

“Do you know the penalty for adultery?” came a familiar voice from behind them. Arst whipped around to find himself facing Xing Long Dau. The man was, as was usually the case, accompanied by a few others of Lin’s cousins. Judging by their attires, they were probably on their way to one of the fancy taverns.

“What are you talking about?” Arst asked, skipping the pleasantries.

Xing pointed a finger at Karla, a devilish smirk on his face. “The first thing you do when you go out alone is visit women. I’m sure Lin will be _delighted_ to hear that.”

Karla tensed, but Arst was doing his best not to roll his eyes. “Young Master Xing,” he said, not even attempting to prevent contempt from seeping through his voice. “If you would bother to actually use your eyes for a minute, you might perhaps notice the resemblance.”

Xing blinked.

“Karla Outway,” Arst introduced. “My sister.”

Xing’s smile turned into sneer. He looked Karla up and down, and before long his smirk returned. “Yes, I see it now. A prettier version of yourself. Ah, poor Lin, my uncle really picked the wrong sibling to saddle him with.” He inclined his head in thought. “Maybe I should get her for myself. We could even share.”

Arst balled his fists and closed his eyes, letting out a breath slowly. He wondered what the punishment for punching a young Long Dau master in the face would be.

Karla’s hands closed on his fist briefly to soothe him, before she stepped forward and bowed to Xing. “Young Master Xing, you are too kind. I am afraid a lowly woman such as myself would only feel inadequate in your noble home.”

Xing sneered again, but did not respond and turned around to leave. “Anyway, don’t stay out late,” he parted with a warning. “You don’t want to raise suspicion.”

Arst waited until he and his company were out of earshot before letting out a long sigh.

“Who was that?” Karla asked, disgusted.

“Xing Long Dau. Yan Long Dau’s eldest. Don’t pay him any mind, he’s always like that.”

“Is that what you have to deal with every day?” Karla asked sadly.

Arst shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’m good at avoiding him and his clique, usually.”

“To say these are our future leaders…”

“Don’t say that aloud,” Arst whispered, alarmed. “You never know who’s listening.”

Karla clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Arst looked around discreetly, but nothing seemed amiss. After a moment, he relaxed. “We’re fine, but it’s good to be cautious around here.”

Karla nodded in understanding.

“Anyway,” Arst added, “let’s forget about Xing and keep going.” He held out his hand, which Karla took immediately.

Despite their best efforts, however, Xing’s appearance did put a damper on their evening, as it reminded them of their circumstances, and of their looming separation. Arst took Karla back to her inn, walking as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable, but in the end they found themselves staring at the golden statue much too soon for their liking. Arst hugged Karla again.

“I wish you could stay longer,” he whispered.

“I do, too. But I have many things to do at home.”

Arst looked at her proudly. “You’ve really gotten into your role.”

“It should be the other way round…”

“But this is how it is now. It suits you.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. I promise I won’t let you down.”

They hugged one last time, before regretfully parting ways. Arst made it back to the castle gates just in time before curfew, eliciting a questioning look from the guards. Lin was already asleep when he stepped into the house. Arst slipped into his futon as silently as possible and fell asleep to the memory of his sister’s smile.


	15. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter with too many sparring scenes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... the longest chapter so far, I think. Probably the longest in the entire fic, but we'll only know that at the end XD;

The beginning of Ragnome brought further twists to the Kitarl clan drama. Over the past month, the council of elders had managed to talk the brothers into a truce, although negotiations were still underway. Dan was often the one updating Arst and the others on the situation, as his father’s close contacts from the Kitarl clan kept him updated every day. Everyone thought the incident was reaching its conclusion when an unexpected development threw the clan into chaos once more. While the two brothers were tentatively putting talks of a joint rule on the table, a cousin decided to take matters into his own hands and took up arms. After a brief fight, he emerged victorious, slaying the brothers and declaring himself the next head of the clan.

“Not the conclusion I would have expected,” Arst commented to Lin one evening, “but I suppose things are going to settle now.”

“Are they?” Lin did not seem convinced. “Seizing power is one thing. Keeping it is another.”

“He’s already managed to bring back some order,” Arst countered. “All he needs now is to gain the clan’s full support.”

“That will not be easy. Turning against your own blood is a grave crime.”

“It is,” Arst conceded. “But our society values displays of strength as well. He won his duel fair and square. It wouldn’t be the first time a clan gets behind an usurper, though I suppose it hasn’t been the case for such a large clan in a long time.”

“It will depend on how he spins the story, then. If he can convince his clansmen that he saved them from the chaos brought about by the feuding brothers, he might be able to earn their support.”

“Only time will tell, I suppose…”

“The king’s reaction will also be a deciding factor,” Lin said. “He does not concern himself much with the clan’s internal issues, but his recognition can make or break a leader.”

Arst nodded. “He must not have been too pleased with the postponement of the competition. In that case, that’s one point in favor of the usurper, as he was not the one to start the upheaval.”

“Indeed.”

“What does Lord Lars think about it?” Arst asked. Not that he valued the Long Dau chief’s opinion much, but his decisions had a direct impact on Arst’s life.

“He mocked the lot of them,” Lin replied. “That said…” He paused a moment, then leaned toward Arst over the table. “I heard him mention to my uncles that it might be a good occasion to reclaim some territories we lost to the Kitarl a few years ago.”

“A new campaign, then?” Arst whispered back, eyebrows raised.

Lin leaned back. “Possibly. Nothing is set in stone.”

Arst hesitated a moment, chewing his words. “If it happens, will you participate?”

Lin’s face did not betray any emotion. “If Father wills it.”

* * *

The beginning of Ragnome also brought back the regular practice schedule. Instructor Li worked them extra hard, which made Arst wonder if the rumors about an upcoming campaign were actually getting concrete. Arst and Lin could not avoid sparring against each other this time, and as they had agreed, Arst let Lin disarm him. He could tell that Lin was making a genuine effort, but he was still far too easy to read, and his strikes were much weaker than what Arst was able to withstand. Not for the first time, he wondered how Lin would fare if he had been allowed to fight his sparring partners seriously.

Lin’s next opponent was Xing. His cousin wore the same smirk he usually did when he was about to cause trouble.

“I wonder if I can beat you this time, Lin. You’re always so strong.”

“Quit talking and get on with it.”

Sparring against Lin often did not last long. Like Arst, most disciples simply left themselves open for an attack they pretended not to see coming, and let the prince disarm them without resistance. This was why, when Arst noticed Lin and Xing were still sparring when his own match was over, he stopped to look at them.

Lin was attacking his cousin, trying to land a hit. Xing merely parried, looking almost bored. When he retaliated, he did not hold back, but always stopped short of actually defeating him. Then the cycle would repeat, with Lin trying and failing to disarm him, and Xing prolonging their fight. He was toying with him, Arst realized. Just as Arst once did when he was mad at Lin, Xing was working his way toward defeat in a way that left no illusion as to who was the superior fighter.

“Stop stalling,” Lin hissed under his breath.

Xing laughed. “I’m not as weak as the others, cousin. It will take you a little more effort to defeat me.”

Lin gathered his forces and lunged himself at Xing, who swept him aside. When it looked like Lin was about to lose his balance and fall, Xing immediately dropped his sword.

“Woops, you got me. You’re so strong!” he drawled. “What do you say? Shall we try again? Maybe I’ll have better luck next time.”

Lin glared at him but did not deign to respond. Arst stepped forward. “Allow me.”

Xing sneered. “No one asked _you_.”

“Young Master Xing, you know neither of us are a match to Prince Lin. Why don’t we compete for second best instead?”

“Heh. If you say so. But I should warn you, I’m on a good streak today. You’ll have to settle for third place.”

“We shall see,” Arst replied, readying his sword.

Xing Long Dau was strong. Stronger perhaps than most of the trainees. Stronger than many men Arst fought in his life. His strikes sometimes lacked precision, but he made that up in sheer raw power. However, whereas Lin would not be able to take him at full strength, Arst was used to fighting against powerful opponents. Raw power had its limits when it was the only thing one relied on. No matter how much strength one put into it, if a hit did not land, that power was wasted in vain. Xing believed that as long as he hit _something_ , he would quickly gain the advantage. But his lack of precision played in Arst’s favor. Arst observed him, reading his movements to anticipate his swings and thrusts and step out of the way to avoid them. He did not strike back and merely focused on dodging. With each new miss, the Long Dau man tired.

Xing was red in the face when he paused to speak. “Stop dallying and fight seriously!”

Arst smirked. “Did you expect me to be as weak as the others? You should know by now that it takes a little more effort than that to defeat me.”

With a cry of rage, Xing suddenly lunged at Arst. Mana surged through the air, and Xing slammed Arst with the full force of an arte. _“Beast!”_

Arst used his sword to guard, but the force of the arte knocked him backward. Ignoring the pain that bloomed in his chest, he recovered quickly to dodge Xing’s next attempt and put some distance between them. It would be easy to retaliate, send out a Demon Fang his way and follow up with a combo, but using artes with mana was forbidden during mock battles because of the risk of injury. In his anger, Xing had broken the rule, but Arst doubted he would face any repercussion for it. Xing must have known that, too. He no longer held back, pouring all his mana into his moves. Fortunately, he was still as predictable as before—even more so now that he’d lost his composure—and Arst had no trouble evading his attacks, though each near miss left him a little more breathless. He had to end this quickly. Finally, an occasion presented itself, and Arst took advantage of a slip in Xing’s guard to land a hit of his own and disarm him.

“Congratulations,” Xing growled as he picked up his sword. But it was not Arst he was looking at; it was Lin. “You’ve got yourself a useful dog, haven’t you? Look at him, so eager to win your fights for you. Does he even bark on command?”

Lin’s gaze clouded in anger, but he did not rise to the provocation.

“Dogs are nice,” Arst commented lightly, unfazed, “but I prefer cats.”

Xing turned to him and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t act so clever now. I should remind you that you are nothing more than a lowly concubine. You may wag your tail when your master is near, but don’t forget that the privileges his status grants you are limited. Between us, I am the one with Long Dau blood. I could make you bark if I wanted.”

“Watch your language, Xing,” Lin intervened. “You may be superior to him, but a slight against my concubine is a slight against me. I will not let gratuitous attacks slide.”

The two cousins glared at each other, before Xing flung his sword to the ground furiously and stalked out of the practice hall.

When they made it back to their home, it became apparent that Lin was still in a bad mood. Without a word, he went straight to the bathhouse to freshen up. When Arst came back to the main house after his own turn in the bathhouse, he found the prince sitting at his desk, glaring at the wall ahead. Arst sat down at the side of the desk and waited.

After a while, Lin spoke. “Stay out of it.”

“Last I checked, there wasn’t a rule against fighting each other’s sparring partners,” Arst said.

Lin slammed a fist on the desk. “I don’t need you to fight my battles!” His clenched hand was shaking and he was breathing heavily. Arst reached out to pat him, but Lin swatted his hand away. “I don’t need your sympathy,” he hissed.

“I didn’t fight him out of sympathy for you,” Arst objected.

Lin turned his glare to him. “Why then?”

“His smug face pissed me off,” Arst replied cheekily. “Since punching him is not allowed, I tried the next best thing.”

Lin’s lips parted in surprise. They curled up in a slight smile. “…He does have a very punchable face, doesn’t he?”

Arst grinned. “Maybe you should try that next time.”

“Punching him?”

“When you’re locked in a guard, just drop your sword and deck him in the face. He won’t see it coming.”

Lin entertained the thought for a moment with an amused look, but soon his smile dropped. He sighed. “If I did that, it would make it back to Father’s ears, and then I would be the one slapped in the face for using underhanded tactics.”

“Can’t he do anything without tattling to his uncle?” Arst grumbled.

“Father favors him,” Lin said quietly. “The only reason he hasn’t designated him his successor over me is his stubborn pride. He wants his own blood to take over, not his brother’s. No matter how incapable I am.”

“You’re not incapable,” Arst argued. “You’ll make a much better leader than Xing.”

“How can you say that after seeing what happened today?”

“Being stronger with a sword is not what makes a good leader. He’s nearly a decade older than you and still acts like a playground bully. He would be a disaster as a chief.”

“Father does not see it that way,” Lin muttered. “He’s distinguished himself several times in actual battles, even his very first. Meanwhile, the only thing I accomplished during my first battle was lose my sword.”

Arst cringed. That must have been extremely humiliating.

“Can you blame Father for preferring him?” Lin asked bitterly. “At least he’s bringing glory to the clan.”

Arst mulled his words over, burning to ask but not knowing how to word it tactfully.

“What is it? If you have something to say, say it,” Lin said.

“I’ve been wondering why you… why you always rely on others feigning defeat against you.”

“You’re wondering why I’m so weak, you mean.”

“Well… Yes, essentially,” Arst admitted. “I was trying to word it nicely, though.”

“You do not need to mince your words,” Lin replied coldly. “I am aware of my own failures.”

“If you are, then why…”

Lin did not reply immediately. He continued to glare ahead, as if he was trying to bore a hole in the wall from his stare alone. After a while, he looked down. “I wasn’t… the most diligent trainee when I was a child,” he started. “Practice was tiring and painful, and I was more interested in broadening my knowledge and practicing my arts than gaining actual battle skills. I skipped sword practice whenever I could get away with it. Father was furious when he found out,” he added in a low voice. “I think that is when he started losing faith in me as his heir.”

“How old were you then?” Arst asked.

“About ten.”

“Just ten? It isn’t unusual for children that age to not take their training seriously. You would have caught up later.”

“Weren’t you already really strong at that age?” Lin argued.

“Well, in my case, I started really young. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed it, and I had a good teacher, so taking it seriously was not hard at all…”

“I suppose you’re right… Still, Father had high expectations for me.”

“What happened, then?”

“I did not want to disappoint him, so I made efforts to practice often and get stronger. But as time passed, it became obvious that most of my peers were better than me. No matter how hard I tried, how hard Father tried, it was never enough. Then at sixteen I had my disastrous first battle, and I think that’s when he started giving up on me…” Lin’s eyes were glossy, his tone bitter. The memory was obviously painful to him, a burden he bore with shame.

“So you gave up too… didn’t you?”

Lin nodded slowly. “I mean… nothing I do will ever please him. Besides, it’s not like I have anyone to practice with. Instructor Li made sure of that.”

That was what Arst found the most incomprehensible. Even if Lin was weaker than other disciples, surely having him train with them properly could have given him the practice he needed. Li’s methods sounded completely counterproductive to Arst.

“If his methods are so inefficient on you, how come your father hasn’t found you a better tutor?”

“He is the best in the clan,” Lin explained. “Besides… Father tried teaching me himself for a while, when he was frustrated by my lack of progress.”

“I take it that didn’t work?”

“Father concluded that it was entirely my fault if I was so weak, not the tutor’s,” Lin replied bitterly. “He said that there was just no hope for me.”

“That’s harsh…”

Lin looked down. “It is preferable than his attempts at forcing my weak temperament out of me. At least he left me alone after that. Well, until the marriage, that is.” He looked Arst in the eyes, serious. “Do you know why he chose this union?”

Arst enumerated. “Punish my insolence. Weaken the Outway clan. Subdue me.”

“That is not all.”

Arst raised his eyebrows. “What else?”

“He wants you to be subdued, but more than that, he wants _me_ to do the subduing. This is as much a test for me as it is for you.”

“So, what, are you supposed to tame me or something?” The thought made Arst laugh. “Clearly we’ve been doing it wrong this whole time.”

Lin did not laugh. “That will just be another way in which I am a failure in his eyes.”

Arst wanted to argue that there was no reason to try to gain Lars’ approval, but he had a feeling this would not go over well. Despite his apparent resignation that nothing he could do would please his father, it was still obviously a sore spot for Lin.

“For what is worth,” he said gently, “you haven’t completely failed at getting the intended results, even if your methods were not what your father expected.”

Lin looked at him quizzically.

“If you had tried to subdue me by force, I would have definitely fought back,” Arst explained. “Even if you one day managed to break me, if pushed too far, I would have tried to take you down along with me. The fact that I haven’t caused any major incident yet is proof that you have been handling me right.” He could not resist a joke. “Who knew the way to subdue the Outway rebel was offering him ice cream, huh?”

Lin’s lips twitched. “Ice cream is a small sacrifice to keep the peace.” He grew serious again. “I just didn’t want my own home to be filled with conflict…” he admitted.

“Wanting peace is not a weakness,” Arst said.

“Perhaps. But it is not what Father wanted.”

Struck with inspiration, Arst suddenly got up, startling Lin. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Grab your sword and follow me,” Arst simply said, before he picked up his own sword from the sword stand and went out to the courtyard.

Lin followed him uncertainly, a puzzled look on his face.

Arst unsheathed his sword and pointed it toward Lin. “Practice time!” he declared. “Come at me with all you’ve got!”

Lin looked at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads. “We just spent the afternoon practicing,” he protested. “Besides, these aren’t practice swords.”

“A sword is a sword,” Arst countered.

“ _These_ swords are deadly,” Lin hissed. “They’re not meant to be used against _allies_.”

Arst’s arm faltered and he let the tip of his blade point downward. “Li never had you practice with your actual sword?” Seeing Lin’s expression, he answered his own question. “No, of course he wouldn’t.”

Sparring with real swords was risky and could only be done in a controlled environment and with a healer at hand. But it was an efficient way to get acquainted with one’s own blade and battle partners. That was not something to attempt with beginners, but Arst was confident enough that he could keep control of the situation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let any of us get injured. I’ll only use mine to guard, not attack. And you won’t be able to touch me.”

“How do you know that?” Lin asked, vexed.

Arst fixed him with a look.

“Okay, okay, point taken,” Lin sighed. He hesitantly unsheathed his sword and set the scabbard aside. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, though.”

“Your father wants you to become stronger,” Arst explained. “I am loathe to do anything he would approve of, but it is not really for him that I’m doing this. Do _you_ want to become stronger?”

Lin stared at him with a conflicted expression. Arst could see the doubt in his eyes, the long-acquired resignation that he would never become as strong as he was supposed to be. But Arst knew that there was more to strength than physical abilities. What Lin lacked in power, he made up with his mind. He was stubborn, and usually did not give up easily. Arst was convinced that his strength of will could be harnessed to overcome his limitations. If anything, it was worth trying.

As expected, Arst saw something shift in his husband’s eyes, from doubt to acceptance, then to determination. The hand holding the hilt steadied, and he assumed a battle stance. “Very well, then. Let us try.”

Perhaps it was the prospect of an exciting battle, Arst’s heart was beating fiercely in his chest as he stepped into position. “Just come at me with the artes and forms you’ve learned. Don’t worry about injuries or retaliation. Focus on showing me what you can do.”

Lin nodded once, and, after taking a deep breath, ran toward him, weapon ready.

He started out well enough, but his step faltered as soon as he got close. The strike against Arst’s blade was so gentle that Arst did not even feel it. Despite Arst’s reassurance, Lin seemed to be afraid to hurt him accidentally. Arst did not comment, simply stepped back and motioned to him to try again. The next hit was a little more assured, and it only took a few more tries for Lin to grow comfortable enough to attack seriously.

Arst let him attack, merely blocking the strikes to protect himself. Doing so, he took the opportunity to observe Lin’s moves. For the first time, he could focus his attention solely on him, without pressure or distraction that were common to group practice. What he found was not really encouraging, however.

“Hold on!” Arst spoke after parrying the same move for the fifth time. “Why are you trying so hard to bludgeon me to death? You’re holding a sword, not a mace.”

Lin wavered. “I…” He looked down at his blade, as if it held the answers. “I’m trying to put power into the move,” he said.

Power that he did not have, Arst knew. Nor needed for that kind of arte, anyway. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. He recalled every other instance he sparred against Lin, or watched him spar against others. If what he thought was true…

He was a little breathless when he voiced his next request. “Show me that arte again. Not against me. Just the forms, like during warm-up.”

Lin frowned, not understanding why he was being asked to do that, but complied nonetheless. He focused and did as Arst told, performing the arte on his own. The execution was flawless.

Arst tried to contain his bubbling elation at the revelation. “Now do it against me again.”

Lin got back into position and lunged at him. Like before, it was a clumsy attempt, with extra swings that were not part of the arte and none of the precision he had just displayed.

Arst had him try again with different moves and artes, first practicing them on his own, then attempting to strike him with them. The difference was staggering. On his own, Lin had no issue executing the moves. His motions were swift, sharp and precise. He had obviously practiced them well—proof that he wasn’t lying when he said that he did put effort into his training. However, as soon as he was facing an actual opponent, it was like he forgot how to do them.

“What’s the point of this?” Lin asked after a while.

“Lin, I know! I know!” Arst was practically bouncing with excitement.

“Know what?” asked Lin, clearly not sharing his thrill.

“I know why you keep failing!”

Lin looked at him expectantly, a tinge of hope in his eyes.

“It’s not that you’re skill-less,” Arst explained. “You’re just trying too hard to put power into the moves instead of letting them flow smoothly. It comes out in all the wrong ways, and you lose focus. _That_ _’s_ why you’re always so easy to read!”

“But I am supposed to put power into the arte,” Lin said. “Father always says that if I can’t make my opponent flinch when my blade hits their guard, then there is no point in attacking.”

In that moment, Arst really felt like cursing the Long Dau patriarch out loud. He was starting to understand where Lin’s weird hang-ups were coming from.

“That’s… Well, okay, it’s good to be able to break the enemy’s guard, I’ll give him that. But Lin, that’s not the main function of a sword.”

“What do you mean?”

“As I said earlier, this is not a mace you’re holding. Swords are for cutting…” Arst demonstrated with a slashing motion. “…and stabbing.” He thrust his blade through the air. “There is no need to try to break an opponent’s guard if you can get under it first.”

“How can I do that?” Lin asked.

“Stop focusing on power.” Lin looked as lost as if Arst had suggested he gave up the sword altogether to learn beastcraft artes instead, so Arst tried to explain again. “Your father, and Instructor Li as well, tried to push you to imitate his fighting style. And while that works well for him, or even people like Xing, you are built differently, and have a different set of talents. Rather than trying to make you fit their mold, they should have helped you develop in a way that fits _you_. If we can figure out what works for you, you’ll be able to make actual progress.”

Lin did not even try to conceal the hope that bloomed on his face. “Really?”

Arst nodded solemnly. “I’m sure of it.” He took a step toward Lin, excitement rising in him again. “I’ll help you! I’ll practice with you here, as much as you need. We’ll figure it out together.”

At that moment, as Lin looked at him, eyes bright with hope and gratitude, his cheeks rosy and his hair in disarray from the exercise, Arst was suddenly struck with a realization.

His husband was beautiful.


	16. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress is made.

Understanding Lin’s problem did not mean that solving it was going to be a walk in the park. He had years worth of ingrained habits to unlearn, and simply telling him to stop focusing on power was not really helpful so long as he did not know how to do it. His enthusiasm dimmed with each passing day, but Arst was not about to give up so easily. He wrote to Kohei for advice, and on his recommendation, decided to change his approach.

“Take your real sword this time,” he told Lin before their session.

Lin unsheathed his sword, but paused when he noticed that Arst had made no motion to take his.

“I won’t need it,” Arst said. “Today we’re trying something different.”

Kohei’s suggestion was to first make him practice accuracy. For that, he had a special exercise that his students often saw as boring, as they preferred hitting things, but with hindsight, Arst realized that it was exactly what they needed.

“You’re going to attack me… but you must miss me on purpose.”

Lin looked dubious. “How is that going to help?”

“Well, here’s the thing: you’ll have to try to get as close as possible without actually touching me. It’s all about precision and accuracy; if you misjudge…”

“Absolutely not!” Lin declared. “You’ll get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Arst reassured him. “If I see you’re about to touch me, I’ll dodge. And if an accident does happen… Minah said I’ve made a lot of progress with healing cuts. I’ll be fine.”

Lin stared at him silently. “…Why?” he asked at last. “Why are you taking so many risks for me? What’s in it for you?”

“As your concubine, I have vested interest in seeing you succeed your father instead of Xing. If that means helping you train, then I will do all I can to facilitate that.”

“Is that all?” Lin asked. He did not seem entirely satisfied with Arst’s answer.

In truth, Arst was sick of the way everyone, especially Xing and his gang, disrespected Lin in the practice hall. He wanted Lin to get stronger, to prove them all wrong. But he had a feeling that Lin would take his frustration for pity, which would displease him even more. It was not the only reason, though. “I also enjoy teaching you,” Arst admitted. “In a way, it’s more challenging than Instructor Li’s lessons.”

“I… see. You do like a challenge, don’t you?” Lin still looked a little like he had expected another answer, but he made no further comment on the topic and got ready for practice.

As expected, Lin did not even come close, leaving a wide safety distance between them. According to Kohei, who had tried this exercise with many of his own students, Arst was the only one who had attempted to get as close as possible on his first try. Most people were reluctant, afraid of hurting their master. Arst, however, had had no doubt that the old man would dodge easily if it became dangerous for him, and had enthusiastically charged forward. Now, standing in the instructor’s shoes, Arst understood just how much faith his mentor must have had in him. Arst also realized that this time, he was the one trusting Lin to practice seriously and not hurt him. Deciding to help him improve had been an impulsive decision, but one that Arst was glad he made.

Lin continued to swing his sword far out of range for a few days, but over time, he started gaining confidence in his control, and progressively got closer, until Arst had to pay close attention to his moves if he wanted to be able to dodge in time.

“Good,” Arst said after a particularly close call. “You’re starting to get the feel of it.”

“I think I understand now why you wanted me to do that,” Lin said. “I’d never paid so much attention to what I was doing before.”

Arst nodded approvingly. “It’s important to know your blade, to let it become an extension of your arm.”

He was sure that with more practice and a little more confidence, the Long Dau prince could become a skilled fighter; perhaps not in a way that the current patriarch would approve of, but at least one that would make him a worthy battle partner in Arst’s eyes.

While Lin was making progress in the art of the sword, Arst was also practicing his healing artes diligently. He was still nowhere near close to Minah’s level, but he nevertheless noticed that he was improving, and Minah was certain that he could now handle basic battle emergencies, although he had yet to be put to the test in real circumstances.

When they were not practicing or attending to their duties, they would often relax in Lin’s study, or go out to the city. They now spent most of their free time together, a fact that even Nils noticed, not without a certain degree of annoyance. Arst wondered if there would ever come a time when the blond attendant would stop begrudging his presence in his master’s life.

Healing and martial artes were not the only thing that Arst was aiming to improve. He and Lin still played shogi regularly, especially in the evenings after Arst defeated him while sparring—which, with their new private practice sessions, was happening more and more frequently. While Arst was still undefeated with a blade, the same could be said about his husband when it came to moving pawns across the board. However, Arst was never one to give up easily. He had sworn to best him one day, even if it took him thousands of tries.

Lin was often silent during games, only opening his mouth to taunt Arst when he stubbornly refused to concede defeat until the very last moment. By contrast, he was rather chatty once they were done, going over the game and pointing out Arst’s mistakes and good moves. Arst joked that if he kept giving him tips, the day his perfect winning streak would be broken was coming soon.

“It’s the same,” Lin replied.

“The same?”

“The same reason you are teaching me in the courtyard,” Lin clarified. “I enjoy a challenge.”

Arst grinned. “Well then, I will take your advice to heart. Don’t complain if it comes to bite you in the ass next time.” He started rearranging the pieces for another game.

“We’ll see about that,” Lin huffed.

Arst tried to stay focused this time and not let his mind wander. Arst loved observing Lin when his attention was focused on the board. He could sit still like that for several minutes, his gaze intense, his mind mapping all the possible moves and outcomes before him. Arst enjoyed analyzing his minute changes in expression, or the way his golden strand of hair bounced when he moved his head. He was so caught in his observations that he often lost track of the game, resulting in his increasingly frequent mistakes. But this time, Lin’s remark had incensed him, and he was determined to win this round.

He built a basic castle to strengthen his defenses, but decided against playing too defensively. Lin was a master of that art, after all, and the games had a tendency to last for hours when they both played too cautiously. One time, they had even played till sunrise, too stubborn to demand a break to sleep. Caution was always necessary against Lin, but leaving him time to develop his strategy was equally dangerous. The trick was to find a good balance, between rushing boldly without a plan or giving him too much leeway to take control of the game. Arst had never been completely successful before, though he had come close on a few occasions. This time, however, he paid extra attention to what he was doing and how Lin reacted, even as he let his instinct guide most of his moves.

This game was particularly intense. Arst managed to send attacking pieces forward, landing a few promotions in the process. Lin’s defenses were hard to crack, however, and Arst had to be careful every time an opening presented itself, lest it be a trap. Lin tried to fend him off for a while, but suddenly changed tactics out of nowhere and started attacking. Arst hesitated. Lin often said that he had a tendency to forget about his king when he was on the offensive. But weren’t lures and feints Lin’s strong point as well? If this was nothing but a diversion, he would be allowing Lin to take control of the game.

Arst looked at his king. His fort could hold for a few turns, he decided. He would just have to corner Lin before it fell. So rather than taking care of the threat, he decided to push forward. He chipped at Lin’s defenses, while Lin dropped more pieces near his. That was about the time Lin would start taunting him, but he was strangely silent this time. Arst’s pulse quickened. Could this be a sign that Lin was not sure of himself?

Arst looked up and searched his husband’s face for any sign of bluff, but Lin was frowning at the board, his gaze focused. He was calculating his moves. Arst grinned, now certain that he could safely ignore the threat on his side. It did not take long until Lin had to stop his advance to focus fully on defending again. And though he resisted as best as he could, the outcome became progressively clearer.

Eventually, Lin realized that resistance was futile, and inclined his head in surrender. “Well played,” he said.

Arst tried to refrain from celebrating out loud, but could not help grinning from ear to ear. “See? I told you you would come to regret it.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Lin retorted. He started putting away the pieces. “It is but one victory in a string of defeats. Savor it while you can.”

Arst laughed. “Oh, I intend to.” He helped Lin tidy up, though he could not help gloating a little. “I hope you haven’t forgotten our bet.”

“Bet?” Lin inquired.

Arst wagged a finger at him. “Don’t act like you don’t remember. You promised I would get the bed if I bested you.”

“How long ago was that?” Lin protested. “You have lost so many times since then.”

“You never specified there was a deadline!” Arst argued back.

Lin’s lips twitched. “Don’t argue on a technicality.”

Arst leaned forward in what was supposed to be a menacing way, but his grin was probably ruining the effect. “You shouldn’t make bets if you don’t intend to follow through.”

Lin leaned backward, his cheeks taking a rosy hue. “I never said I didn’t intend to uphold my end on the deal,” he said. “I was merely commenting on your timing.”

“So is that a yes?” Arst asked, hopeful.

Lin’s eyes darted toward his bed, before focusing on Arst again. “Go ahead.”

Resisting the urge to whoop in victory like a child, Arst got up and approached the piece of furniture he had so coveted all this time. He patted the bedding once before sitting down, bouncing a little on the mattress. It felt soft under him, much different from the hard floor his futon lay on, and even from his own bed in his former home. Arst was not the type to be picky about beddings; indeed, he could fall asleep nearly anywhere with little struggle. But the prospect of spending a night on a soft bed was quite enticing. He laid down and spread out his limbs. On top of being soft and comfortable, Lin’s bed was also actually quite big.

“This is bliss,” he sighed.

“If you wanted one that bad, you should have asked,” Lin said, still sitting at the shogi board. “I would have bought you one.”

Arst turned his head toward him. “Where is the fun in that? At least now I can brag that I conquered Prince Lin’s bed.”

“Be careful of what you say,” Lin warned. “Remember: seizing power is easy; keeping it is another matter.”

“Oh? Are you going to… overthrow me?” Arst asked suggestively.

“I will if you keep this up,” Lin grumbled, his cheeks reddening again.

Arst chuckled, but stopped joking. “You know, it’s not my intention to deprive you of your own bed. We can just share.” He patted the mattress beside him. “It’s big enough for two. If we each keep to our side, we won’t even risk touching.”

Lin got up and walked toward him, frowning. He stopped a few paces before the bed, and looked down at Arst, who was still sprawled leisurely on the duvet.

“Does that offer still stand?” he asked.

“Huh? Yes. I mean, it’s your bed.”

“Not this one,” Lin dismissed impatiently. “ _That_ offer. You know the one.”

For a moment, Arst wondered if he’d made any offer without thinking recently, when it dawned on him. “Oh.” _That_ one. He waved a hand between them. “Benefits?”

Lin nodded once.

“I did suggest something like that out of the blue, didn’t I?” Arst groaned. Neither of them had ever brought it up afterward, so he’d almost forgotten about it.

“If you were joking, forget I even asked,” Lin said, embarrassed.

“What? No!” Arst sat up. “I was serious. And it does still stand. I thought you weren’t interested.” The look Lin gave him told him that he had been too quick to assume. “…I was wrong, it seems. You _are_ interested.”

Lin hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“Tonight?”

Lin nodded again.

Well, that certainly was an unexpected development. A playful smile tugging at his lips, Arst let himself fall back on the pillows. He brought a hand to his chest and tugged on his nightwear collar, exposing a clavicle. Encouraged by Lin’s focused attention, he let his hand trail down slowly until it reached the knot that was keeping the tunic closed, and pulled at it to loosen it, exposing more of his chest. Lin inhaled loudly.

“Like what you see?” Arst teased. “Is that why you’re always lurking when I’m doing solo practice?”

Lin did not look too pleased to have been caught, but at least he didn’t try to deny it.

“So how much do you want to see?” Arst asked, playing with the hems.

Lin’s eyes trailed down, then back up. “Everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter bumped up the rating 8)  
> You can skip it if that's not your thing, though.


	17. Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin finally takes Arst up on his offer. It's more awkward than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I couldn't just fade-to-black this one, so I had to bump the rating ^^;
> 
> **If explicit smut is not your thing, you can just skip this chapter.**
> 
> Also this is my first time writing something like this, so please be indulgent ;;;
> 
> A big thanks to Cal and Joanna for the help, I couldn't have made it without you two ♥

Nudity had never been something that Arst was self-conscious about. Perhaps it was due to growing up with a sister he did everything with—and their father was not one who would have lost energy trying to separate them to get them dressed when he had a clan to run. Perhaps it was because of the big public bath, built around a natural hot spring, that almost everyone in the clan frequented—hot water was always a welcome thing in a region with long winters. Or perhaps it was just in Outway clan customs to believe that the only purpose for covering one’s body was to protect it from the cold—“no, that’s just you,” his father would most likely say to that. Arst was thus rarely embarrassed to find himself exposed to others. But baring himself to a lover for the first time was different than sharing a bath with family or fellow clansmen. It came with a certain thrill that quickened his pulse in anticipation and left him a little breathless.

Lin was different. In the time they lived together, Arst had never so much as caught a glimpse of what the prince was hiding under his clothes. Even on the hottest days of Efreeta, he kept at least one layer on, and was always careful to change out of sight. Arst thought that he was handsome no matter what he wore, but he would be lying if he said that he was not thrilled to finally discover how handsome he was _without_ clothes.

Unlike Arst, who’d dumped his garment on the floor unceremoniously before sitting back on the bed, Lin removed and folded each piece meticulously, leaving Arst ample time to observe him. His chest and arms were exposed first, slender but showing the results of their now regular practice in the courtyard. He turned around after that, unable to bear Arst’s focused gaze. His pants went next, then, after a moment’s hesitation, his underwear, revealing a nicely shaped butt. Arst wondered how well his hands would fit around it.

When he was done, Lin sat on the bed next to him, back straight, a little stiff. For some time, none of them moved, unsure of how to breach the first step. Despite Arst’s earlier enthusiasm, it was more awkward than he’d thought. He was used to taking the lead, but with Lin, he was not sure of how to act.

“Okay,” he said to break the silence. “Do you know what to do?”

“I know the theory,” Lin replied carefully.

“Theory’s good enough,” Arst muttered. “Oh, do you have oil? Minah mentioned special supplies.” Okay, maybe mentioning the old woman was not the best way to make things less awkward.

Lin’s hand jerked toward the chest of drawers. “Bottom one on the right.”

Grinning, Arst got up and went to retrieve the pot. He felt Lin’s eyes following him in his back, and could not help shaking his ass a little while walking. When he glanced back, he discovered with delight that Lin was looking at him intensely.

“Like what you see?” Arst teased as he sat back on the bed. He made himself comfortable on the pillows and spread out his legs, exposing everything to Lin’s inquisitive gaze. “You can touch if you’d like.”

Lin stiffened. “I…” He swallowed, but shook his head.

“Oh,” Arst said, a little disappointed. He did not dwell on it, however, and simply settled for doing it himself. He dipped his fingers in the pot and brought his hand to his ass, playing with his hole while his other hand stroked his dick to full arousal. It had been a while since he’d had the leisure to touch himself like that. It had been even longer since he’d had an audience.

Arst observed Lin through half-lidded eyes. His husband truly was a perfect picture of restraint, but there were little tells that Arst was taking great pleasure in cataloging: his widened eyes and dilated pupils, the way his hands were gripping the bedsheets, how his dick hardened from the display alone, the stifled sound that escaped his lips when Arst inserted a finger, then another…

“Don’t restrain yourself,” Arst murmured. “If you want it, just come and get it.”

It was as if his words unleashed something in Lin. He moved, faster than Arst anticipated, and closed the distance between them, grasping Arst’s thigh. His grip was tight, almost painful.

“Turn around,” he ordered in a low voice which sent a thrill down Arst’s spine.

Arst smirked. “Make me.”

Lin’s hand was gone as fast as it had come, as if he had just burnt himself. “I…”

Arst immediately stopped and sat up, concerned. “Was that too much? I’m sorry, it just came out like that…”

“No, I…” Lin did not seem to know what to say. He merely cradled his hand against his chest, lowering his eyes. “I…”

Arst mentally kicked himself. Things were going well, and he just had to run his mouth again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’ve spent so long questioning authority that it just became a reflex.” He laughed a little. “You know me, I always like a challenge.”

Lin visibly swallowed, but his shoulders relaxed. “I was afraid I went too far.”

Arst wanted to argue that he didn’t go far enough, but he remembered his own first time, and how nervous he had been then. Awkwardness was to be expected, he realized. Especially in those circumstances.

He gave Lin a reassuring smile. “You can take what I say at face value. It was an invitation, nothing else.”

Lin nodded. “Then I shall heed it.”

Arst suppressed a laugh at the formal tone and flipped over, presenting Lin with his backside enticingly. “Come and get it,” he teased again. “It’s all prepared just for you.” He reached behind to spread a bit more oil, and inserted his fingers again to make sure he was stretched enough. Lin held his waist as he did so, his hold gentler than earlier. Arst could feel the warmth radiating from his body, so close, closer than they’d ever been.

“I’m ready,” he finally said, removing his fingers to give Lin access.

When Lin penetrated him, he was slow at first, pushing himself in carefully. His thrusts were shallow and jerky, like he was trying to stay controlled. Impatient, Arst rocked his hips, seeking more friction. He wanted to feel Lin’s cock deep within him, wanted to hear him lose himself to the sensations. His own dick was leaking, begging for attention. Arst grabbed it with his free hand as Lin started to pick up the pace, stroking it in rhythm with Lin’s thrusts. Pleasure surged through him when Lin hit his sweet spot, and he cried out.

Lin paused. “Wh—”

“Keep going!” Arst urged. His whole body was on fire, brimming with tension bursting to be released. “Yes, like tha—aah…”

Lin’s next thrusts were stronger, more confident. His fingers dug into Arst’s skin, leaving imprints, and though he tried to refrain from making any noise, Arst could hear soft gasps escaping his lips. They increased in intensity as Lin neared his climax, and when it finally came he pushed himself deep inside Arst, filling him with warmth. Arst wished he could have seen his face in that moment.

Lin collapsed on the bed with a contented sigh. Arst was close to coming himself, and he jerked himself faster, trying to reach his own climax, but Lin’s sudden absence left him feeling empty, like something was missing. He wanted—

“Can you…” His words died on his tongue when Lin opened his eyes and his bright gaze met Arst’s.

Ah, he truly was beautiful...

That was Arst’s last thought before he spilled over his hand, his mind going blank while a wave of pleasure overcame him.

When he opened his eyes, Lin was still looking at him, though his eyes were glossy, like in a daze. For a moment, Arst looked at the peaceful rise and fall of his chest with a growing feeling of fondness. After a while, he poked his shoulder with a finger. “Are you awake?”

Lin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Yes.”

“Really? You don’t seem very awake right now…” Arst poked again, and Lin curled up on the side, protecting his shoulder.

“Hmm,” was his intelligible reply.

Arst’s head fell back onto his pillow. He knew he should probably go fetch water and clean up a little, but right now, sleep sounded like a good idea indeed. In fact, he thought as he let his eyes fall shut, he hadn’t felt so comfortable in a long time.


	18. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, one step back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has [cover art](https://twitter.com/trs_linitaa/status/1328458852245843972) (by TRS) and [illustrations](https://twitter.com/Sayonaraphicet/status/1336308631277457409) for chapters 6 and 13 (by Dai). They're so awesome, thank you! ♥
> 
> Note: This is a regular chapter, but there is some blunt discussion about their nightly activities.

Contrary to what Arst expected, sleeping together did not change much to their routine. They still practiced together in their courtyard and separately at the training hall. They still relaxed in Lin’s study and went out to the city the same way they used to. The only difference was that they now slept in the same bed, though each kept to their own side when they were not having sex. Lin even still insisted on changing behind the privacy screen and taking turns in the bathroom, to Arst’s endless amusement—and frustration.

“You had your dick deep in my ass last night,” he pointed out bluntly. “There’s nothing to hide at this point.”

“Night is night,” came Lin’s voice from behind the screen. “Now is morning.”

“Does that mean I am only allowed to admire you when the sun is down? What a shame… I thought being your concubine would grant me more more privileges…”

Arst tiptoed toward the screen, wondering if Lin would be mad if he sneaked a peek.

“Stop joking,” Lin said. “And back off.”

Arst sighed and took a step back, waiting for Lin to finish. When Lin stepped out from behind the screen, now fully clothed, he looked slightly irritated, though his pink cheeks gave away the true reason for his sour look.

“I could help you dress,” Arst piped up, struck by inspiration. “Wasn’t that part of my duties?” Bathing him, too, he recalled, but with the look Lin was giving him, Arst opted not to mention that. “Let me at least do your hair?” he offered as a compromise.

Lin hesitated a moment, but eventually knelt down and handed him his comb. Arst sat behind him and started running the comb down his hair, smoothing it out and undoing the knots of the night. Lin always spent a long time styling it in the morning, he knew, so he took particular care to make sure no strand was left unattended. Lin’s hair was soft to the touch and accommodated the comb well despite the length. Arst remembered how Karla once tried to grow hers to her waist, but the longer it got, the more prone it was to knots and split ends, and she eventually resolved to cut it. Lin’s hair, on the other hand, lost none of its shine even at the tips.

There was one part, however, that refused to be tamed no matter what Arst did: the blond strand that sprung up from the top of his head. Arst tried to smoothen it out with the rest of his bangs, but it would bounce back up immediately.

“Let it be,” Lin said. “It is not meant to stay down.”

“I wonder why it’s a different color. Everyone else in your family has plain black hair.”

“Mother said that it was a blessing from the spirits. That this was why it looked and behaved differently.”

“Ah, so it’s like a lucky charm… Well, it _is_ part of your charm, I suppose.” Arst played with it a little, smoothing it between his fingers. The texture was no different than the rest of his hair. Arst doubted that spirits were really involved, but it was a nice story nonetheless.

“Xing once tried to cut it as a prank when I was a child. I’d never seen Mother so angry. Even Uncle Yan was intimidated. Come to think of it, that was one of the few times my cousin was actually punished for his teasing.”

“He deserved it,” Arst declared, offended on Lin’s behalf.

Lin chuckled lightly. “That was a long time ago.”

Arst set the comb aside and contemplated his work. He was sure that Lin would find no fault with it, but Arst knew that he usually wore it up for practice or when he went out. “Should I braid it?” he suggested.

Lin’s head tilted slightly to the side. “No need. I’ll style it myself.”

Arst gave his hair a playful tug. “Afraid I’ll ruin your image? Don’t underestimate me. I have a sister who once tried to grow hers as long as yours; I’ve got a lot of practice.”

Lin thought about it, then acquiesced. “Fine, then. But you’d better be telling the truth.”

Grinning, Arst ran his fingers through Lin’s hair, splitting them carefully into three strands of similar thickness. His hands froze when he lifted the strands to start weaving them, exposing the nape of Lin’s neck. Arst was suddenly seized by the overwhelming urge to bring his mouth to the exposed skin. Almost unconsciously, he licked his bottom lip, his gaze fixed hungrily on that little patch of skin. From where he was sitting, he could just lean in and—

“What are you waiting for?”

Lin’s question brought Arst out of his daze with a jolt. “Nothing!” he replied a little too hastily. “I was just thinking.” He inwardly chastised himself for letting his mind wander so easily, and started weaving the strands with practiced hands to distract himself from unmorningly thoughts. When he was done, he brought Lin a mirror to show him, and stepped aside to let his husband appraise his handiwork.

“See?” he said. “Not a stray strand.”

Lin brought the braid over his shoulder to inspect it, before giving his final verdict. “I see you weren’t lying.” He gave Arst an approving look that sent flutters straight to his gut. Seemingly unaware of his concubine’s inner turmoil, Lin got up and put on his outerwear. Arst watched him with an odd sense of yearning.

Lin took a few steps toward the door, then stopped and looked back at Arst. “What are you doing? We’re going to be late.”

Arst shook his head. “I’m coming.”

Sleeping together did not change much to their routine. But over time, Arst did feel a shift within himself. Outwardly, little changed to their dynamic. At first, Arst had been relieved. However, he soon came to realize that stasis was not what he’d truly hoped for when he proposed their arrangement, and as time passed, it started to weigh on him.

Lin was not a bad partner in bed. He was patient and made sure to respect Arst’s comfort, never pushing for more than Arst would freely give.

But he wasn’t exactly a _good_ partner either. What Arst freely gave, Lin showed no willingness to give in return. Arst had initially taken his reluctance to touch him as nervousness, but even now with more experience and confidence, Lin still never sought to attend to Arst’s pleasure as much as his own. Despite Arst’s subtle encouragements to try more things, little changed since the first time.

Had Arst only sought an quick lay, he would have been fine with things as they were. But coming down from the high of the moment, every time he watched his husband fall asleep on the other side of the bed, Arst felt the distance between their pillows grow heavier. He knew, then, that he had put himself in an impossible situation.

He wanted _more_. He wanted the true intimacy of lovers who forgot all about the outside world while in each other’s arms. He wanted the care and tenderness of two people who vowed to spend their lives together. The casual touches. The early morning kisses. The sweet words whispered in each other’s ear, breath tickling their neck and sending shivers down their spine.

But Lin did not seem inclined to give Arst the kind of intimacy he so craved, and Arst was not quite sure how he was supposed to feel about that realization.

The sound of wooden pieces hitting the board resonated in the room. Arst was playing aggressively tonight, pushing his king beyond the boundaries of his territory. But his focus was not entirely on the game. The room was stuffy, and he was finding it hard to focus on his strategy. His eyes kept straying away from the board, to Lin’s face. Lin did not seem to notice his agitation. He was focused on the game, deep in concentration, planning his every move as always. Arst’s heart swelled at the sight. When had he started to find that look attractive, he wondered. And how did he not notice it before? At the same time, a now familiar longing took hold of him, threatening to burst out. He quelled his impulse, but the more he repressed it, the stronger the urge came back.

“I’ve been wondering…” he started, unable to contain himself any longer.

Lin’s gaze shot up to meet his, attentive. Arst cleared his throat and pulled out a scroll. Lin’s eyes narrowed on it.

“Isn’t that…”

“My list of marital duties? Yes, it is. I found it while sorting some documents earlier.” In truth, he had looked for it on a whim, hoping to use it as a way to playfully convince Lin to let him help him dress in the morning. However, rereading it, he’d found something that took his mind off silly morning duties.

“Why do you still have it?” Lin asked. “It’s not like you really need it.”

“That’s what I thought, but…” Arst rolled the scroll in his palm, mulling his words over. “Lin, this might be a coincidence, but…”

“But?”

Arst took a breath. “I noticed that there was one section that we actually applied to the letter, despite disregarding the rest.” Arst leveled him with a look. “The intimacy section.”

Lin’s cheeks first flushed red, as they usually did when Arst brought up the topic unexpectedly, but then the color drained as quickly as it appeared. “That’s…”

“I thought it must be a fluke, but, I mean… You only fuck me in one position, and that’s the one prescribed here.” Arst tapped a finger on the scroll. “And this section applies as well: _Thy husband shall only take—_ ”

“— _never give_ ,” Lin finished in a whisper.

Arst’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t actually expected Lin to know what he was talking about. “So you are aware of it?” He tried his best to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“I…” It was Lin’s turn to think his next words. “Is that wrong?” he asked.

Arst ran a hand through his hair. “I mean… There’s no right and wrong if that’s what you’re into, but… I had hoped for more variety; more foreplay, perhaps. Some reciprocity.”

“You don’t like it,” Lin said, pursing his lips.

“I don’t _dis_ like it,” Arst countered. “It just feels a little one-sided. We haven’t even really kissed yet.”

“Ah, but that’s…” Lin looked down at the board, avoiding Arst’s eyes. “That’s something only lovers do.”

Arst felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs. “Are we not…?”

No. Of course not. Lovers were people who spent their life together by choice. Out of mutual affection. But that wasn’t them, was it? Lin had never wanted this marriage. He had acquiesced to Arst’s bold proposition in order to fulfill a carnal desire, but he would likely have done so with anyone his father decided to tie to him. Probably would, in the future, when he got other concubines, and eventually a legal wife. Arst tried to restrain the bitterness that arose at this thought.

“Right,” he said, a little more forcefully than he wished. “I should know my place.”

Lin opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he wanted to say, he kept it to himself.

Arst turned his attention back to the game, but realized half-way through picking up a piece that he had not idea what he was doing. He had completely lost track of his strategy, and no amount of staring at his pieces’ formation could enlighten him. So he merely pushed a pawn forward, not really caring where that’d lead him.

Lin moved his own king forward. “If you’d had a choice…” he started. Then fell silent again.

“If I’d had a choice… what?” Arst asked.

Lin did not respond for a long time, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the board. Eventually, he looked up. “It’s your turn.”

Arst sighed, but did not comment. He looked back at the board, still clueless about his strategy, but too distracted to think about it. He moved another pawn, focusing on bringing his attackers to their promotion zone. Lin played fast as well, as if he, too, had stopped trying to plan ahead. Their pieces clashed a few times, but neither really got the upper hand. They kept playing in silence, their usual playfulness gone. Minutes stretched, with the rhythmic clacks of the pieces the only sound in the room. Until…

“Ah…” Lin was holding a knight, looking for a place to drop it. His eyes shifted to all sides of the board, but his hand stayed raised.

Arst followed his gaze, looking for the source of his indecision, when he noticed the state of the board. “Oh…”

A deadlock. With their respective positions, capturing each other’s king seemed impossible.

“This is a draw,” Lin commented.

“So it seems.”

In other circumstances, Arst would have found it funny, and would not have hesitated to point out that a draw was not a loss. But at the moment, he did not really care about the outcome of the game.

“Let’s just sleep,” he sighed. “I don’t think I’m focused enough to play more.”

Lin nodded, and got up to change into his nightwear—behind the screen, as usual—while Arst put away the pieces.

Lin made no move toward him that night. He simply slipped under the covers on his side of the bed, facing the wall. Arst got in after him, staying as close to the edge as possible. That feeling of longing was back, stronger than ever. In truth, the physical gap between them was not that wide. If he simply reached out with a hand, he could grab Lin’s shoulder, pull him toward him, into his embrace… How long had it been since he’d fallen asleep with the warmth of another in his arms? He missed that proximity, that intimacy, more than anything. But Lin had made it clear that it was not part of the deal, and Arst’s heart ached at the thought.

This forced union was truly cruel in more ways that one. No matter who he was bound to, Lin, as the prince, had some leeway to love anyone he wished. Extra-marital affairs were usually frowned upon, but as the scandal with Karla’s fiancé showed, those with power and influence rarely suffered consequences for their indiscretions. One day, Lin might meet someone who would steal his heart, and he would give it freely. He might even wed that person. Arst, on the other hand, was bound by his obligations to the prince. He would have to settle for friendship, and some benefits, as long as Lin wanted that. But the embrace of a lover was something he would be forever deprived of.

That was fine, Arst told himself. That was better than he’d hoped for when he came here. Better than hostility and hatred. Better than indifference.

Arst’s lips etched into a wistful smile. This was fine, he repeated to himself. He would get used to it.

They did not have time to dwell on that night’s conversation. The next day, a messenger came to inform Lin that his presence was required by his father, and when he came back his next words put any talk of intimacy on hold.

“Father has officially declared the start of a new campaign, with Uncle Yan as commander.” After a pause, he added, “I am to assist him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger XD;  
> New arc starts next chapter!


	19. Advance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions, battles, and conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new arc is starting! :D

Arst was hot. The season was well into Ragnome now, which had brought nicely colder temperatures to Xian Yang. However, the Long Dau army had just passed through the boundaries of their capital’s clime, entering into a warmer area of the Changbai Mountains. The mountain range was generally characterized by temperate climes, with colder temperatures near the peaks of its mountains, but there were pockets scattered here and there were fire spirits’ influence was strong, resulting in year-long hotter temperatures. Such areas were usually conducive to unique crops, making them particularly coveted by the clans in the region. Such was the case for Tonghua, the administrative seat of the area.

Those lands used to be Long Dau territory, back when Arst was still a young child, but they were now administrated by a clan that had sworn allegiance to the Kitarl clan. It had been Lars Long Dau’s ambition to reclaim it one day, and he bade his time until an opportunity presented itself. Now that the future of the Kitarl clan was uncertain, Lars jumped on the occasion to deal them a blow and recover his former fief. He had spent a few weeks negotiating with the local clan, urging them to switch over to the Long Dau, but while some clans easily swore fealty to anyone who demanded it, others were bound by a sense of loyalty that was not easy to erode. This was the case for this particular clan, which refused to consider any of Lars’ offers. According to Lin, none of these offers had been particularly advantageous to the other clan, leading him to believe that his father was not really hoping for them to accept his conditions, but was rather itching for a fight—an occasion to display his power to all the neighboring clans, as well as to rub his superiority in the Kitarls’ faces.

Yan Long Dau, named commander of this campaign, was leading the procession on his white stallion. Directly behind him were Lin and Xing, along with a few other members of the family and some officers. Arst and Nils, as Lin’s attendants, were not far behind, a new experience to Arst who was used to riding at the back with the rest of his men during Long Dau-led campaigns. But Arst was now part of the ruling household, and his current spot in the formation reflected this change of status.

The clan they were opposing was moderately large, which prompted Lars to enlist the cooperation of some vassal clans, as he did not want to send too many troops away from the capital. Such clans had departed earlier and had been tasked with establishing a camp from which they would operate. Barring any unexpected development, they would reach that camp in the evening.

“Remember that you belong to the Long Dau clan now,” Nils hissed.

“I know, I know,” Arst whispered back.

Nils’ warning was not totally unfounded. Though most of the clans ordered to send troops were clans that resided in nearby regions, there was a notable exception: the Outway clan, called down from its northern mountain to join the campaign. Having the Outway clan join a campaign so far from its territory made little strategic sense, but Arst knew the real reason behind their presence. It must be a test, a way to see how Arst acted when his family was nearby. But Arst did not care about that. This was a rare opportunity to see his father again, and he was not going to waste it.

They made it to the camp just before sundown. The leaders of the vassal troops were gathered at the entrance to welcome the arrival of the Long Dau men. Arst was practically bouncing from excitement when he spotted the familiar figure of his father among them. Kamal Outway, on the other hand, showed no sign of recognition, his attention entirely focused on Commander Yan. Arst knew he was forcing himself to show no emotion while they were in public, so he imitated his father’s example and tried to appear impassible.

After greetings were over, they were shown to their living quarters. The camp was divided into subdivisions according to clan and rank, with the center reserved for the Long Dau elites and their attendants. Arst, as the prince’s concubine, was going to sleep in the same tent, which was a rather impressive structure with a large bed and other furniture such as a desk and a shelf, and even a small bathtub. To Arst, who was used to camp tents barely large enough for a small cot, this was the height of luxury.

Once they were done freshening up from the journey, Arst turned to Lin. “Do you mind if I visit the Outway camp for a bit?”

Wordlessly, Lin threw something at him. Arst caught in midair with one hand. It was his token.

“If anyone asks,” Lin said.

Grinning, Arst waved the token in thanks, before slipping out of the tent.

As one of the smallest clans joining the campaign, the Outways had their quarters on the fringe of the camp. This meant than in case of attack, they would be first on the line of defense. However, it also meant that they were too far from the center for Yan’s men to keep an eye on, a fact that suited Arst well as he made his way toward the encampment.

The youth guarding the makeshift gate was the son of one of Kamal’s councilors, and one of those who had trained under Kohei alongside Arst. The last time Arst saw him, he was still too inexperienced to join a campaign, but he must have been deemed ready since then. He recognized his senior disciple immediately. “Arst!” he greeted, grinning from ear to ear. “We knew you’d come! Lord Kamal is in the largest tent at the back.”

Arst returned his smile. “Thanks, Zorig. You’ve grown since last time. First battle, huh?” He slapped the teenager’s back encouragingly.

“Yeah! Father finally agreed to let me join! I’m going to make him proud!” he boasted.

“Don’t get too rash. Recklessness brings carelessness.”

Zorig laughed. “You’re one to talk!”

“You must have heard Kohei say it a hundred times: I’m—”

“—not an example to follow. Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Shaking his head, Arst approached the largest tent and knocked on a post, waiting for his father’s strict voice to say “come in” before he entered.

Kamal was in the middle of a conversation with Kohei when Arst entered, but both stopped to turn toward him when he set foot in the tent. They both sported identical knowing smiles that told Arst his visit was fully expected.

Arst bowed briefly. “Father, Master Kohei.”

“Arst. Come here,” Kamal said, extending a hand. Arst joined his side in a couple strides, and soon found himself engulfed in a bear hug. “It is good to see you, son.”

Compared to their clans’ average, Arst could be considered quite tall. This was why, when he hugged people, he was usually the one putting his arms around them and holding them tight. His father, however, was an exception. Despite inheriting his genes, Arst never outgrew him, even during his last growth spurt. The difference in height was not very big, but when he was engulfed in his father’s arms like this, his head resting on his shoulder, he felt small and young again.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered. If his eyes were a little teary, no one saw it.

Kohei patted his back. “These are not the best circumstances for a family reunion, but your father and I are glad to have this occasion. We had many volunteers this time. I think most of the youths of the clan wanted a chance to see you again.”

Arst chuckled. “I met Zorig by the entrance. He’s eager to prove himself.”

Kohei groaned. “They all take you for a role model. I’ve been telling them not to imitate you, but you know the Outways; each more bullheaded than the other.”

Kamal laughed and loosened his hold of Arst to respond to Kohei. “They should admire Karla instead. At least she doesn’t cause trouble.”

“Hey!” Arst protested. “I’ll have you know I haven’t caused any major trouble yet since the wedding.”

Kamal grew serious at once. “Don’t say ‘yet’. You must be on your best behavior, otherwise…”

Arst squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I know. I am careful, don’t worry. Tell me, how is Karla?”

“She is well. She’s currently holding the fort, since Kohei and I left with the troops. She was happy to see you in Ignis.”

“As was I. I wish I could see you all more often…”

Kamal ruffled Arst’s hair, to his half-hearted protests that he was not a child anymore. “Be happy for what we have. We might have been kept apart forever.”

“I know…” He was lucky to have Lin, Arst thought, feeling the weight of the token in his pocket. These fleeting meetings would not have been possible without him.

“We won’t be able to fight side-by-side like before, but just being able to see you is more than I could have hoped for.”

Arst nodded. Lars Long Dau might have intended to drive home the fact that he was not an Outway anymore by having his family participate in the battle while Arst would have to move with the main Long Dau forces, but on the other hand, that provided them with the chance to see each other again, and Arst would not miss that for anything.

Yan Long Dau was a merciless general. The word ‘surrender’ was not in his dictionary: whenever he ordered an attack, they were not to stop until every single enemy had been annihilated, or had fled too far for them to give chase. He was not the type to concern himself with his own losses as long as he achieved victory, either. The first few battles were grueling—all-out raids against well-defended outposts, that resulted in bloodbaths on both sides. Arst did his best to protect those he could, but not everyone escaped unscathed. Dan sustained a serious injury that left him unconscious in the healers’ tent for days before it was certain he would make it, and the Outways lost five of their men. Arst sneaked into his father’s tent those nights, and they held each other for a long time, grieving for the young lives lost to the war.

“Will there be a day when those kinds of battles are no longer necessary?” Arst wondered out loud.

Kamal hugged him tighter. “This is the world we live in.”

Despite a few close calls, Zorig was still in one piece, thanks to Kohei’s watchful eyes. The past few days had taken a toll on him, however. His eyes had lost their sparkle, and he huddled in front of the fire with a few of his fellow disciples, as if to reassure each other and themselves that they were still there. Arst wondered how many would remain by the time the campaign was over.

Lin did not take part in the battles. He was there to assist his uncle in overseeing the operation, but the highest ranked officers stayed away from the frontlines. This last fact did not sit very well with Arst, who thought that they should come and experience the circumstances that were caused by their decisions first-hand before sending them on yet another reckless assault. However, that also meant that Lin stayed safe, and for that Arst was grateful.

Arst often saw him arguing with Yan and Xing, but since they were usually talking in Long Dau, he did not understand what it was about.

“What’s going on?” Arst asked one evening when he found Lin staring at the walls of their tent with a blank expression on his face after another argument with his uncle. Arst had only caught the end of their argument, as he had been busy helping to carry the injured to the medical tent. He’d tried to offer his feeble skills, but the healers had ushered him out before he could do a demonstration, insisting they didn’t need amateurs to hinder them. He’d then heard Yan raising his voice from inside the strategy tent, and before he could check what it was about, he saw Lin storming out and head toward their quarters. When Arst finally retired to their tent, drained from three days of constant battles and eager to rub the grime off his skin, he found Lin sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at nothing. “Did you fight with Lord Yan again?”

He went to check the water in the bathtub. Since the beginning of the campaign, he’d always come back from battle to a warm bath. Tonight, however, the water was cold. Arst shrugged, and, too tired to spend mana on heating it, started disrobing.

Lin took so long to respond that Arst almost thought he hadn’t heard him. He was stepping into the bath when Lin finally spoke. “I tried to advise Uncle to exert more caution.”

Arst raised an eyebrow, before belatedly realizing that Lin couldn’t see him, as he was still glaring at the wall. “And?” he prompted.

Lin merely shook his head.

“I heard him yelling,” Arst said.

Lin lowered his gaze to stare at his hands. “Yes. He had a few choice words to say about my… abilities.”

“He’s a fool,” Arst stated. It was true. It did not take a battle genius to see that their current mode of operation was utterly wasteful. They had managed to rout out the main line of defense, but casualties and injuries kept adding up. Arst was not looking forward to what the assault on the main keep would entail.

“Try saying that to his face,” Lin replied humorlessly.

Arst repressed a chill. He was not sure whether it was from the water or the prospect of angering the Long Dau commander. “I can’t.” He might have, a few months ago. “I promised to be on my best behavior.”

Lin huffed. “You’ve grown soft.”

“Marriage tends to do that to you,” Arst joked. “The whole point was to tame me, remember?”

Lin turned to look at him, a pained expression on his face. “That’s not what I…” He trailed off when he realized what Arst was doing. Hastily, he got up and rushed to Arst’s side, sticking a hand in the water. “It’s freezing cold!”

Arst couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. His laughter rippled through the tent, while water splashed in all directions. Lin jumped back to avoid getting sprayed, looking mildly offended. “Sorry, sorry,” Arst wheezed. “You just looked so dismayed…” He started laughing again, causing more water to overflow. Lin tried to glare at him, but Arst’s laughter must have been contagious, because a faint smile appeared on his face, though he tried to hide it by biting his lip.

“You should have told me,” he said. “I forgot to heat it earlier.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“You should! You are going to catch a cold if you’re not careful.” Arst very much doubted that, but the concern made him smile. “And cold water is just not as efficient. You’re filthy.”

Arst started laughing again. “And here I thought you were concerned about my well-being. You just don’t want me to stink up the bed, is that it?” he teased.

“That’s not…” When he caught on that Arst was joking, Lin gave him is best unimpressed look. “You know what? You’re right. You’d better scrub out all that mud and… whatever else is there.”

Arst looked down at the water surface. It was no longer transparent. It had rained for most of the day, so Arst was caked in mud and blood and, as Lin put it, whatever else.

“I’ll have more water— _warm_ water—brought in,” Lin said, before leaving the tent for a few minutes.

Arst did his best to get rid of most of the grime before his return, and emptied the dirty water into the gutter behind the tent. He was wiping the now empty tub clean when Lin came back with servants carrying several buckets, which they set down at the entrance of the tent. Arst walked up to him to help him bring them in, but Lin immediately averted his gaze.

“I don’t get why you insist on looking away,” Arst said, grabbing a bucket and pouring its contents into the tub. Steam rose from the surface. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, at this point.”

“It’s not that,” Lin replied, emptying his own bucket and keeping his eyes fixed on the tub.

“What is it, then? Does my body offend your sensibilities in some way? I thought you were at least attracted to me.”

Lin gaped at him, before quickly looking away, a blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Was I mistaken?”

Lin mumbled something. When Arst prompted him to clarify, he cleared his throat. “I said _that_ _’s_ the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

Lin busied himself with emptying another bucket. When he finally answered, he spoke every word slowly, as if getting them out was physically painful. “When I see you naked, I get easily flustered, and I start wanting to touch you.”

Arst blinked. A hopeful smile etched on his lips as he processed what Lin was implying. “But that’s not a bad thing. _I_ want you to touch me. Like I said the other day…”

Lin’s grip tightened on the bucket, turning his knuckles white. “I can’t,” he croaked.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Arst grumbled.

“I… Can’t. Shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s not like you need anyone else’s permission.”

“The rules…” Lin whispered.

“The rules?” Arst scoffed. “Don’t tell me you think you’re beholden to that stupid rulebook.”

Lin let go of the bucket, and it joined the others on the floor. “Uncle Ying…” he muttered.

Arst’s eyebrows shot up. “Uncle Ying?” What did Lin’s second uncle have to do with anything?

“He’s the one who wrote that section,” Lin explained. Arst made a face. Knowing some elder wrote it was one thing. Knowing who exactly did was another. He was not sure he could look at the man the same way now that he knew. “He also… instructed me,” Lin continued, “on how to act, as the Long Dau heir. It would be unbefitting of me to treat you in any manner that might undermine my dominance, considering our respective positions.”

“Dominance…” Arst echoed coolly. Of course, it made sense. All those rules were tailored exactly around that, after all. Submit to thy husband. Kneel before him. Let him take and don’t expect anything in return. This marriage was as much a way to teach Lin dominance as it was to teach Arst humility.

“You don’t understand. There are… expectations placed on me.”

“I get the picture,” Arst muttered, resisting the urge to hide his face into his hands and groan. He knew the Long Daus were extremely attached to protocol, but that went beyond anything he’d imagined.

“I’m sorry,” Lin said.

“Why are you apologizing? Isn’t that against your rule of dominance, too?”

Lin winced. “I just felt like I should. I know you’re not happy with how it’s been going.”

“I’m not _un_ happy,” Arst argued, maybe to convince himself as much as Lin.

He dipped a hand into the water. The warmth made his cooled skin tingle. He stepped into the bath and immersed himself, relishing in the sensation. Hot baths weren’t so bad, after all.

“It’s not like I don’t get anything out of it,” he pointed out, resuming the conversation. “I’d just be happier if you discarded those rules, that’s all.”

“I see.”

“It’s okay if you don’t. It’s your choice. Maybe…” Maybe one day, he would. One day, when he became chief himself and was finally able to make his own decisions without his family’s pressure. Arst realized that he actually longed for that day. Without Lars around, Lin would be free to do as he pleased. It would just be the two of them, stirring the province toward a better direction…

A comfortable silence settled between them. Arst closed his eyes and let the warm water soak away the aches of the past battles. Lin, for once, did not go away, nor did he keep his gaze lowered. He sat next to the tub, an arm over the edge, hand drawing patterns on the water surface whimsically. Outside, rain started falling again, and the rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think will happen next? Will they all make it in one piece? Will Arst stay out of trouble? Will Lin finally stop bowing down to family pressure?


	20. Risky Endeavour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assault on the main keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached 20 chapters! And today is my birthday, so it seemed fitting to post it now x)
> 
> Lots of action this time. Will Arst and the other Outways be okay? Read to find out!

Arst cursed when a mass collided with him from behind, nearly making him lose his balance. He turned around to help Zorig back on his feet, scolding him. “Watch your step!”

“Sorry, Arst,” the young man mumbled. His pants were completely covered in mud from where his knees had met the ground.

Arst’s were not faring that much better. His boots were so dirty it was hard to guess their original color, and his armor was littered with branches and leaves that got snatched in it as he moved through the vegetation.

Soren, who was following close behind, stopped at their side. “Everything OK?”

“Yeah,” Arst said, swiping wet bangs away from his eyes with the back of his hand. Louder, he addressed the rest: “Be careful when you move! The ground is extremely slippery.” He heard a few scoffs and snickers. “Yeah, okay, that was pretty obvious. Come on, let’s keep going. We have to hurry.”

“Are we even sure we’re going in the right direction?” someone grumbled. “We’re just gonna get lost in this stupid forest, I bet.”

“Don’t say that!” Zorig exclaimed, before looking at Arst fearfully.

“Don’t listen to him,” Arst told him. “I know what I’m doing. Come on.” Somewhere, thunder rumbled.

The small group of Outway men and a few others from the Long Dau troops faced forward and resumed running through the forest.

* * *

“The enemies have dropped their guard!”

Those were the foolish words that set the events in motion. By some fluke of fate, both Lin and Arst were present in the strategy tent when the messenger came.

“What do you mean? Speak!” commanded Yan Long Dau.

The messenger bowed hastily and made his report. “The scouts just came back. The castle gate is open and lightly-guarded!”

Xing, who was standing by his father’s side, laughed. “I bet those cowards just fled like rats when they realized our might.”

“Excellent,” Yan said. “We shall mount an assault immediately and exterminate those weaklings once and for all. If we seize the main keep, the other forts will surrender in no time.”

Arst frowned. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Yet, no one seemed to share his apprehension. The messenger looked like he was trying to hide his excitement, while Yan and Xing looked extremely pleased.

“Now’s our chance!” Yan exclaimed. “Time to wake up the troops and start marching as soon as possible. Xing, you’re leading this charge.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Wait!” That was Lin’s voice. Everyone turned toward him. “You shouldn’t rush out without a plan.”

Xing rolled his eyes. “Who needs a plan when those idiots’ defenses are so light?”

“Don’t you get it? It’s obviously a trap.”

Arst nodded in agreement. That was exactly what he’d felt. He was glad that Lin was pointing it out. Unfortunately, the others did not seem to share that opinion, if their dubious expressions was anything to go by.

“Look,” Lin said. He walked up to the table, on which a map of the area was spread out. “The castle is not easy to access. There is only one narrow road, with the cliff side on one side and a thick forest on the other. It is the perfect setting for an ambush. Instead of having our troops charge blindly, we should send out a few mobile units to lure them out, while the main body takes another route to circumvent potential ambushers.” While speaking, Lin grabbed a few pieces that were used to represent troop movements and set them on the map to illustrate his explanation. “Scouts could climb the cliff and watch the road from above, while the rest of the army takes this parallel forest trail here…”

Xing scoffed. “Are you blind, or stupid? That path leads to the opposite direction after that curve there.”

“The curve is not that far from the main castle road,” Lin pointed out. “And closer to the castle entrance than where ambushers would set their trap. If our men cut through the forest to reach the last section of the main road, they would end up behind enemy lines, which would enable us to surprise the enemy and disrupt the ambush.”

“And waste a lot of time and energy in the process. No thanks.”

“That would reduce the waste of lives,” Lin bit back. “All they have to do is put roadblocks in your way for your men to be trapped with little room to maneuver.”

“Oh yeah, that’s the kind of cowardly tactics _you_ would come up with.”

They started arguing in Long Dau for a while, leaving Arst out of the loop. Instead of trying to follow the back-and-forth, he looked down at the map and the pieces Lin had scattered on it. For a moment, he was reminded of their shogi games. Lin always planned every move carefully, anticipated traps and feints with ease, and always seemed five steps ahead. It should not have been a surprise that this sharpness of mind could be applied to real situations as well. Arst felt a thrill at the realization. Even if Lin couldn’t fight, his contribution could change the tide of battles in significant ways. This meant—

_“N’mioga!”_ Yan suddenly bellowed, startling Arst. “I’m sick of your nitpicking, Līn. Do you remember what your father said about your silly ideas? Do you want me to tell him about the way you’ve been acting here?”

Lin visibly recoiled.

“That’s what I thought. Now get out of here before you try my patience any further.”

“Lord Yan—” Arst started, but Lin grabbed his arm to interrupt him.

“Yes, Uncle. Please forgive my shameless outburst.”

Arst opened his mouth to protest, but Lin dragged him out of the tent before he could say something he would regret.

“Don’t antagonize them,” Lin said once they were a safe distance away. “It would do neither of us any good for Uncle to lose his calm.”

Arst balled his fists. Lin had a point, but the way they rejected his strategy angered him. Lin had been _right_. Rushing into an obvious trap without a plan was reckless, and unlikely to give Xing the overwhelming victory he anticipated.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Lin whispered. His fingers dug into Arst’s arm painfully.

“It won’t,” Arst said, resolute.

“How can you say that?” Lin asked, frustration clear in his voice.

“It won’t,” Arst repeated. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Lin shook his head. “No matter how strong you are, you can’t protect everyone.”

Arst placed his hand on Lin’s, which was still squeezing his arm. Gently, he unclenched Lin’s fingers, freeing his arm and taking Lin’s hand in his own. “I know. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

“Don’t be reckless!” Lin’s words came as a rushed whisper. “If you die…”

Arst gave his hand a light squeeze. “I’ll be fine, I promise.” Whether he would remain safe afterward remained to be seen, but he saw no need to worry Lin further.

Lin nodded. “You promise. You can’t take it back. So you’d better come back in one piece.”

His threat made Arst smile. “Exactly. Now, why don’t you go find and talk to Nils while I get ready? We don’t have much time before I must leave.”

Lin looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually nodded. Arst let go of his hand and took a few steps away, but something made him pause. A strong need, from deep within himself, born from desperation and yearning. Giving into the impulse, he retraced his steps in a couple of strides and pulled Lin toward him, holding him tight against his chest.

“Arst…”

“Don’t say anything,” Arst whispered. “Let me have this now. Just in case.” In case this would turn out to be his only chance to hold him, to feel his warmth in his arms. He tried to push that thought away from his mind and instead focus on what he had to do.

He let go of Lin as suddenly as he had grabbed him, and offered him a small apologetic smile. “I’ll see you after the battle,” he said, before walking away, leaving his stricken husband behind.

Arst did not immediately head to his tent. Instead, he sprinted toward the healer’s tent, where he knew Liang and Soren were likely to be, to keep Dan company in the morning. He had to be quick.

“Liang, Soren!” he called as soon as he stepped into the tent. They immediately hushed him, gesturing to all the sleeping patients.

“Sorry,” he muttered. He greeted Dan briefly, before turning back to the other two. “It’s urgent. I need you to gather a few men you think are trustworthy and meet me equipped for battle by the Outway camp as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?” Liang asked, frowning.

“We’ve been assigned a secret mission.”

* * *

Zorig tripped again, but this time it wasn’t the slippery ground that made his face meet the dirt. Branches were curled around his ankle, almost like wooden fingers that were gripping his leg and pulling him back. Arst was on it in a blink, sword unsheathed and unleashing a wave of mana toward the wooden arm. Others followed his lead and started firing fire balls at the treant. The monster reeled back from the sudden heat, letting go of Zorig in its panic.

“Be careful not to set the forest on fire!” Kohei admonished them. Fortunately, the woods were currently too wet to catch fire.

Enraged, the treant swung its arms at the attackers, sending them flying backward. Arst evaded the attack and slashed at it, but his sword merely got caught in the bark. Sensing the monster’s incoming retaliation, he yelled for his fellow disciples to take this chance to attack. The treant flung him away, and though he managed to recover in mid-air, the wet ground disrupted his landing, and his knees sank into the mud.

Strong arms grabbed his elbow and pulled him up.

“Thank you, Father.”

Kamal let him go without a word, and Arst had to quell the urge to apologize. His father always had a way to make it known that he was displeased without having to say anything.

* * *

Knowing his son’s disposition better than anyone, Kamal had not been deceived by Arst’s tales of secret missions and orders from above. No sooner had Arst asked for a few volunteers in the Outway camp than Kamal took him aside.

“You’re lying,” he said.

“Father—”

“There is no order. You’re acting on your own again.”

If looks could kill, Arst would probably be buried by now.

_“Arst!”_

“You’re right,” he sighed. “I lied. It’s better they don’t know; they can claim I deceived them, then.”

Kamal grabbed his arm and held it tightly, digging new marks where Lin had held him earlier. “Are you out of your mind?! You promised you wouldn’t do anything reckless!”

“And I haven’t—as long as I could help it,” Arst argued. “This is no longer a situation where I can hold back.”

“Arst!” Kamal hissed. “This is exactly the kind of behavior that put you in this situation in the first place!”

“So what would you have me do?” Arst asked him, his voice thick with bitterness. “Fall in line meekly and let us all walk into an obvious trap? Do nothing when I have the means to reduce our casualties? I can’t do that, Father. I can’t pretend not to know anything while I let innocent men fall victim to the whims of incompetent leadership. Someone has to act, and I am willing and able.”

Kamal closed his eyes in anguish. “I knew something like this would happen. With each new battle… It was only a matter of time.”

Arst took his hand gently. “It is my decision. Please respect that.”

Kamal opened his eyes, and the resigned look he gave him made Arst’s heart swell with affection. “Lord Lars won’t be pleased to hear you defied orders again. You will be punished. Harshly. You won’t just get off with a marriage this time.”

“They won’t kill me,” Arst stated, to reassure his father as much as himself. No matter how cruel the punishment, his life at least would be spared. Lin would make sure of that. Arst felt a pang of guilt for keeping him in the dark about what he intended to do. Lin’s ability to keep him in check would surely be put into question. He hoped that Yan would realize that there was nothing Lin could have done to stop him.

Kamal heaved a deep sigh, then turned to address the men who were waiting for Arst’s instructions on the side. “What are you all waiting for? Go get your gear already, we are leaving in ten minutes!” At his words, they immediately scrambled to their tents.

“Father…”

“What? You said someone had to do it. Let’s do it, then.”

“You should keep a few men and stay with the main army,” Arst said. “Otherwise they might think you were in on it.”

“And they would be right, wouldn’t they? But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to deflect the blame back to you, since that’s what you want.” His glare told Arst exactly what he thought of that plan. “The Outways stick together,” he said in a final tone.

* * *

Arst examined Zorig’s leg while the others were finishing off the monster. His flesh had been scratched open by the wooden claws, but the wound was thankfully shallow. A simple First Aid spell was enough to stop the bleeding, though Zorig would have to see a more competent healer if he wanted to avoid scarring.

When Arst got up, he noticed Kohei staring at him with a strange look.

“I didn’t know you were so at ease with healing spells,” the old man said.

“I’ve been practicing. I found someone to teach me in the castle.” As Kohei was still looking at him strangely, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no.” Kohei shook his head. “I should be proud of your progress. It’s just… I have to accept I’m not the one who gets to teach you anymore.”

Arst felt a twinge in his chest. “As far as I’m concerned, you are my only sword master.” Instructor Li did not even come close.

“Is that so?” Kohei gave Arst a pleased smile.

“You would like Minah, though.”

Before Kohei could answer, Soren called out to Arst. “We’re done with the damn monster!”

The treant lay in a fuming heap on the wet ground. Arst stepped around it and turned to the group.

“Let us proceed forward!”

The castle road was not much further ahead. After about ten minutes of running through the woods, this time without encountering any obstacle, cries and clamors reached their ears from somewhere ahead. There was no doubt about it: the battle had already started. The small group picked up the pace, and before long they spilled out of the forest. A few yards down the road, the way was blocked by barricades, which enemy forces were defending against the Long Dau army, preventing them from moving forward. Arst could not see what was happening at the back, but if Lin’s predictions were correct, another enemy unit must be attacking their rear, effectively trapping them on both sides, with no means for advance or retreat.

“Liang, take a few men and check on the castle’s defenses,” Arst ordered. “It wouldn’t do us any good if reinforcements came pouring out of the gates. The rest, follow me. We must break that barricade!”

What followed was a blur of steel and blood, of artes and cries. Spotting their approach from behind, the defenders rushed to protect their barricade from both sides. Now they were the ones trapped between two forces, and their unpreparedness played into the Outways’ favor. Arst cut through the hastily assembled first line of defense, his father a comforting presence at his side.

Lilium orbs were expensive and thus not a thing the Outway clan possessed in abundance. Arst grew used to fighting without one, vowing to become strong enough to be able to fend off opponents and monsters without relying on such items. However, his father had gifted him one on his fifteenth birthday, and Arst had immediately noticed the vast potential those orbs possessed. The link that shimmered between him and his father was a powerful one, one born of trust and familiarity and love. Even after all those months apart, they fell back into their usual stances effortlessly. Their senses enhanced by each other’s awareness, they mowed open the way for the younger clan warriors to reach and dismantle the roadblock.

Realizing their predicament, the enemies devolved into chaos. Some fought with all they got, desperate to push back this sudden assault, while others felt the danger of imminent defeat and fled through the woods. Xing, who until the Outways’ arrival had been struggling to defend himself, took immediate advantage of the overture.

“To the castle! Follow me!”

Arst let him pass and motioned for some of the Outway men to join the charge, while he stayed behind to assist those who were still fighting. He found Nils further down the road, a large gash on his arm but still standing and fighting. Arst struck down two of the men who were cornering him, while Nils finished off the third.

He turned to Arst, pale and a little shaky. “Where were you?!”

Arst did not have time to respond immediately, as new enemies lunged at them. “Took a detour,” he said between artes.

When things died out a little on their side, Nils sat down under a tree, looking thoroughly exhausted. His sleeve was soaked red. Arst rushed to his side and tore it off to inspect his wound. “I can stop the bleeding,” he said, “but you’ll have to see the healers for the rest. It looks bad.”

Nils breathed out heavily. “There were too many of them,” he explained, as if to justify himself.

“What happened?” Arst asked as he focused his mind on the cut. He spoke the incantation under his breath, gathering soothing light under his fingertips.

“They blocked the road. Then, before Lord Xing had time to react, they started coming out from the forest and attacked our flank from all sides. There was no way to move. We were all packed against each other.”

Arst swore under his breath. He recalled Lin’s words. “A disaster.”

Nils grimaced. “Then the way opened up at the front and it became easier. Was that you? Is that why you disappeared?”

Arst nodded. “We got behind the blockade. We didn’t make it in time, though.”

“Late is better than never,” Nils sighed, sagging against the tree. “Aren’t you joining the charge on the castle?” he asked after a while.

“I’m more needed here. Besides…” He hesitated an instant. “It’s better that Xing doesn’t think I’m trying to overshadow him.”

Nils scoffed. “He didn’t even notice you weren’t there. Departure was so rushed and chaotic…”

“Did you see Lin before you left?”

Nils gave him a look. “He was looking for _you_ ,” he said, almost accusatory. “What did you say to him? I’d never seen him so frantic.”

“Ah, I…” Perhaps Arst shouldn’t have ceded to his impulse and hugged him without warning before disappearing. Lin must have been worried by his uncharacteristic behavior.

“Anyway, you’d better make sure your latest stunt doesn’t reflect badly on him. Lord Xing might not have noticed, but others did, and it’ll make it back to Lord Yan’s ears in no time.” His tone had a hint of warning to it.

“I know.”

Having finished closing Nils’ wound, Arst got up and surveyed the battlefield. Groups were still fighting down the road, though with more enemies running away and more Long Dau troops moving forward toward the castle, they were not as pressed together as before. The road was littered with fallen bodies, making movement difficult if one did not look where they stepped.

“Stay here,” Arst told Nils. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll go help the others.”

Nils sighed again. “Okay.” He was still extremely pale, but at least he wasn’t at risk of passing out from blood loss anymore.

The rest of the day was spent routing out the remaining enemies, while Xing and his men took over the now defenseless castle. Then came the grueling task of sorting through the bodies and counting casualties. They had lost many comrades in this battle, but everyone agreed, not without great relief, that it would have been so much worse if the blockade hadn’t miraculously been broken through. For a time, Xing tried to claim that it was all his doing, but those who had been fighting at the front were quick to spread the word that it was all thanks to the Outway unit that they were able to get out of that inextricable situation. Liang and his group were also commended for breaking through the castle’s first defenses before Xing even got there, but they did not fail to recount in great detail the duel that opposed the young Long Dau lord against the chief of the opposing tribe. All in all, the operation was a success, and though the numerous victims were mourned, morale was high among the troops as they settled for the night in the occupied castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter. What do you think will happen next? :>


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